Snow
by Lulubird
Summary: Sometimes people don't bother to look beyond the blades and the teeth and the cold, black eyes. Everyone has something they're fighting for...or someone, and Enobaria is fighting for her little sister. She is fighting for Clove. Part 1 of the 'Snow, Blood and Steel: Enobaria' Trilogy.
1. Prologue

**"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat." **

**- Mother Teresa**

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"Doesn't she look spectacular ladies and gentlemen? Enobaria Reyes! Victor of the 67th Hunger Games!"

Caesar Flickerman's voice boomed out across the auditorium and into every corner of Panem. I looked out over the sea of colour that was the Capitol audience and watched them all stomp and cheer, waving banners of colour at me and blowing kisses. The cold look I gave them all wasn't even an act. I despised everything about them and would have taken great delight in giving each of them a slow and painful death. But instead my eyes connected with a familiar face in the front row. He gave me a meaningful look and instead of trying to rip Caesar Flickerman limb from limb I walked up the few small steps and out into the centre of the stage, exposing myself to the full force of the Capitol's adoration.

I refused to smile. Stiffly I took a seat, ignoring the hand held out to me, and told myself it would all be over soon.

"Well, I _must_ say, you gave us a fan_tas_tic victory!" exclaimed Caesar excitedly. In frustration I tugged aside the long skirt of my black dress. It clung to my ankles and felt so unnatural. Apparently being Victor didn't permit you special treatment from the prep team because they had still forcibly held me down as they tugged at my hair and applied a simple layer of smoky black makeup to my eyes. Getting me into the dress had been just as hard as before as well and I could still feel where their fingers had dug into my back as they pinned my arms behind my back to force me into it.

To my delight they had seemed a little more frightened of me than before. When I had snapped out at one of them she had hurriedly withdrawn her hand and a flash of concern had crossed her face. They knew now that I wasn't just some pretty little toy putting on a play of ferocity. They had seen what I could do with those teeth.

I turned my eyes back to Caesar incredulously. He still seemed to think that everything I did was some little display for their pleasure. No matter how bitterly and viciously I glared at them they didn't seem to see the hatred in my eyes. My hands gripped together tight in my lap to keep myself from strangling him. "I went in there to win and that is what I did." They were not going to let me leave until I gave them something so I may as well keep it on my terms.

"Why don't we take a look at that win?" he asked the audience and they erupted into a storm of cheering again. Caesar laughed ridiculously and turned to face the screen behind us. With reluctance I turned to face it too. The actual act of my kill didn't bother me, but I could barely remember what I had done during those final moments. I had been told enough to be unwilling to see how it portrayed. I didn't want to be seen as weak or crazy, no matter how much that was how I had felt at the time.

The screen was suddenly filled with white and I repressed a shudder at the sight. If I never saw snow and ice again in my life it would be too soon. It would be worth going to hell just so I never had to suffer through another freezing night.

Two figures appeared on the screen, dark against the pure white snow. I watched myself, moving towards the smaller figure and I was glad that the injury to my leg wasn't overly visible. All I could remember of that moment was the way the mountains had been shattering on the horizon, disintegrating into a cascade of diamonds that rained down around me. Sitting painfully upright in my chair on the stage I closed my eyes briefly, trying to forget the powerlessness of the poison that had been spreading through my body. A terrifying scream sent my eyes flying open again and I was confronted with the terrified girl's eyes for the second time in as many days. Her eyes were the one thing I remembered clearly as I had pinned her to the ground. The way they had flickered over my face, perhaps desperately looking for something that wasn't there. She should have known that I was going to kill her.

Desperately I tried not to focus on my face on the screen but I could hear my voice, screaming as I shook my head wildly from side to side. I remembered how real the fingertips on my neck had felt. I remembered so clearly that even now, even without the hallucinogen in my system, I was still sure that I could feel them gripping the back of my neck. Instead of screaming now though I stiffened by back and gritted my teeth. It wasn't real. There was no one behind me and if anyone dared to touch me now I could rip them apart before they even knew what was happening. And I wouldn't hesitate.

On the screen I had stopped screaming and my eyes were fixated on the girl's throat. _"Calico."_ I didn't remember speaking her name. At the time I hadn't even been sure how I knew it. But the word slipped passed my lips and echoed around the auditorium. I pulled my eyes from the screen where the trickle of blood down her throat threatened to pull me in, and instead looked out over the faces of the audience. They were transfixed to the screens but I doubted that their bloodlust came from the same place mine did. They had no reason to crave the blood, to crave the kill. And yet here they were, painted hands clutched to their mouths and looks of awe and delighted horror on their faces as they stared wide eyed. They were loving it.

There was another skull shattering scream and my eyes flew back to the screen. The scream hurt my head just as much now as it had then. I found myself grinding my teeth, wanting so badly to make the screaming stop just as I had wanted it then.

I watched myself lean down over the girl. Without realising my hands were gripped so tight in the fabric of my dress that my knuckles had turned white. My heart beat had picked up with desire as I contemplated what was coming. There was a thrilled rustle of pleasure from the audience as my teeth sunk into her skin. I didn't look at them, I was too fixated on the screen, watching myself make the final kill. The kill that I already knew was going to make me famous among these stupid, petty and twisted people. Caesar let out a little whimper of horrified delight as he watched the blood on the screen. My own heartbeat was fluttering like a small bird desperate to be free.

As I watched myself pull away from her throat the strong, metallic taste of blood suddenly filled my mouth again. Ripping my eyes from the screen I fixed instead on a point behind Caesar, trying to resist the suddenly overwhelming urge to choke passed the reminder of the blood filling my mouth. My whole body tensed, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms went unnoticed as I willed myself to get over the sudden panic that flooded through me. It was irrational, completely irrational, but with that hint of blood that had filled my mouth my body had taken over in a state of terror.

I felt his eyes boring into me and dragged my gaze around to where he sat in the first row of the audience. His eyes locking with mine were enough to calm the insistent pounding of my heart. He reminded me of home and power and control and the little figure who would be watching this eagerly at home- the person it had all been for. I felt the momentary panic subside enough for me to catch Caesar's next words.

"That may well be the best moment of Victory I have ever seen!" he exploded and the crowd burst into applause. I looked back at him, the taste of blood fading, and familiar, cold anger set in. There was a flicker of apprehension in his eyes as I fixed my gaze on him and his smile faltered for the briefest of seconds. It was enough to bring a cold smile to my lips.

"Did you really expect anything else?"

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**A/N: Welcome to my new fic. This is a look at Enobaria's backstory. It is rated T for violence, mild gore and adult themes- the usual with the Hunger Games. It is quite a long story but already written so you are guaranteed an ending and regular updates. **

**If you review I'll send you virtual cupcakes because I'll love you that much.**

** -Lu**

**PS. Special enormous thankyou to my beta reader and sounding board Madi. I'm sorry for all the jars of nutella this story made you go through.  
**

**PPS. I also want to point out that I realise Katniss recalls Enobaria winning the 62nd Games, but for the sake of this story I think she got it wrong and Enobaria actually competed in the 67th Games...just go with it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks everyone who reviewed the prologue.**

When I was nine everything changed.

The kitchen was small and shabby, just as everything else in this house. No one ever cleaned and so as I walked into the room dust rose in small puffs from my feet. It never seemed to leave no matter how many times I walked through here. I coughed as the dust caught in my throat but stopped immediately when I saw someone standing in the kitchen. My hand fell from my mouth as I realised too late that I had clearly announced my presence.

The person turned to face me and for the first time in over five months I looked at my mother.

She had just disappeared one day. That in itself wasn't unusual, but then it had been three weeks and she hadn't come home. Then two months. At that point I had decided to risk asking my father where she had gone. He had looked at me silently for a second, and I had actually fooled myself into thinking he was going to answer me, until I felt the sharp pain of his hand on my cheek. I never let myself cry when he hit me but it still brought involuntary tears to me eyes. I didn't dare ask him again and after that I simply convinced myself that she was dead. It seemed the most plausible explanation. I knew then that there was something wrong with me because what made me most sad about that conclusion was not that my mother was dead, but that I would be left alone with my father. We had no friends, no other family that I knew of. No one ever came to visit. The only person I ever talked to was our neighbour. Even at school and the junior training centre they left me to myself, the teachers not even bothering to ask me questions. I didn't love my mother but at least she was someone to take some attention away from me. I'd rather be invisible to my father than have his rage directed only at me.

What I did learn at school was that there must be something very wrong with me if I wasn't even a little sad that she was dead. When I was seven a girl in my year level's mother had been killed in a quarry accident. She had cried for days at school and they kept having to send her home. I supposed that was the reaction I should have had but I just couldn't bring myself to feel anything. It wasn't even that I was happy at the prospect of her death, I was just completely indifferent. She'd always just been a grey, ghostly presence in the house that occasionally spoke a few words to me. I didn't know her and she didn't know me.

As we stared at each other across the kitchen I waited for her to say something. She held a piece of paper in her hand and when she saw me she placed it gently down on the countertop. Her eyes moved to the table and I followed her gaze. There was a bundle of cloth sitting on the wooden surface and as I watched a small hand waved from it. I started in surprise and my eyes flew back to her questioningly. She only looked straight through me and without a word drifted from the room. I heard the door snap shut a moment later and knew that she had left. She looked exactly as she had before, the same vagueness about her eyes and the same slumped shoulders. I don't think I'd ever seen her smile.

I stared at the bundle of cloth and tried to decide if I was happy to see my mother again or not. After she left I listened to the familiar silence and stillness of the house. I had come to associate loneliness with safety. If the house was silent and still then I was alone and that was always preferable.

I dropped my bag by the door with a soft thump and walked towards the table. As I approached I could see clearly that the arm belonged to a body. A baby. Climbing onto the chair to get a better look I watched the arm wave in the air towards me. I leant over it and saw its eyes widen and fix on me quizzically. Why was there a baby in our house? I stared at the scrunched up little face and wisp of black hair in complete confusion. It was like seeing an alien in my house. I wasn't even sure I'd ever actually touched a baby before.

It closed and opened its eyes and I saw they were as black as my own. I stared at it in horror, adding together the months my mother had been away and the grumpiness of my father, and I suddenly knew what this baby was; my sibling. The thought didn't bring me any comfort. The baby looked up at me with curiosity and snuffled its little nose, pulling a face. Despite my horror the way its face contorted tugged my lips towards a smile. Then it faded as I wondered why anyone would bring something so innocent into such a cruel world.

The baby reached out a hand and grasped a lock of my hair that had fallen loose. I wondered if it recognised the blackness of my hair and eyes as part of itself, as I did with it. As it reached out its other hand to pull my hair towards it I noticed a tag tied to its wrist. A slip of card on a piece of string labelled it as if it was a piece of merchandise. I flipped the card over, ignoring the painful tug on my hair.

"Clove Reyes," I read aloud. I looked back at the baby which was now trying to put the lock of hair in its mouth. "Clove," I repeated her name and she looked up at me as if she understood. "Hello Clove. I'm Enobaria. I think...I think I'm your sister." The words sounded stupid even to my own ears. Why was I introducing myself to a creature that didn't even understand? And she could hardly reply. Seeing the lock of my hair about to get clamped in her little mouth I pulled back, letting my hair slip through her fingers. It was a bad move because a second later her face screwed up and a horrible wailing noise filled the house. I jumped, amazed at how loud such a tiny creature could be, and looked around frantically. I didn't want to be caught by my parents leaning over the baby as it bawled its eyes out. But I didn't know how to make her stop. No tears seemed to be escaping her eyes but she continued to bawl loudly, her little fists waving around.

"Please be quiet," I begged, leaning back over her. "Please please be quiet, you'll get me in trouble." But she didn't understand my pleas and continued to cry. Desperately I reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek. "Shhhh," I tried uselessly. As if my touch was magic she suddenly stopped, her face instantly smoothing and her eyes growing large as she gazed at my face. There was no sign that seconds ago she had been bawling her eyes out miserably. Babies were strange things. She kept staring at me and I began to feel incredibly scrutinised. How was something that couldn't even talk able to make me feel so studied? It seemed we were equally transfixed. We stared at each other for several silent minutes and then she lifted her fist to me again, opening and closing her fingers. They were impossibly small. Hesitantly I reached out and lifted the bundle from the table. She felt awkward and heavy in my arms but as I pulled her towards me she sort of fitted herself to my neck and chest. I looked around anxiously again, terrified of being caught with her. I had no idea what my mother's reaction would be if she walked in right now. She clearly liked Clove as much as she liked me. I didn't know much about babies but I was fairly certain they weren't supposed to be left alone in the house and abandoned on table tops.

Instinctively I began to rock back and forth and I could feel her little face pressed to the side of my neck. The hair on top of her head was impossibly soft and downy but it was the exact colour of my own. Her skin was slightly lighter than mine. It was strange, I thought, that even though she was so young I could easily pick the characteristics of this baby that resembled me. As I stood there holding her it suddenly sunk in that she was related to me. I'd seen people at school and training with their sisters. Some of them seemed to go everywhere together and others seemed to fight all the time. I'd never really contemplated what it would be like to have a brother or sister. It had just seemed so detached from me and yet here I was holding my own little sister. I looked down at the top of her head.

"So um...I don't really know what to do here," I said and paused stupidly as if I was waiting for a response. I looked around. There was nothing in the house to indicate that a baby was going to live there. What did you feed a baby? I hovered nervously in the kitchen for a while, rocking on my feet without even thinking about it. But the more time I spent standing in the kitchen holding her the more exposed I felt. My parents could come at any minute. My mother I was fairly certain might not even notice, but the thought of my father's reaction made me shiver. Clove seemed to pick up on that because she started crying again. "Please don't do that," I begged but this time she wouldn't cease. My heart was thudding in my chest and I flicked my head around frantically, looking for something to do to make her stop.

Hoisting her up slightly and frowning at the noise that was making my head ache I walked hesitantly towards the front door. It was already growing dark outside, the winter dusk creeping in with mist and shadows. Checking the coast was clear I dashed around the side of the house and slipped into the dark pine trees on the edge of our allotment. I walked as quickly as I could while still making sure I didn't drop her. She didn't stop crying the whole way I scurried through the woods, avoiding tree roots that threatened to trip me up, even though I kept up a string of pleas and bargains. I slipped through the trees and emerged on our neighbour's block. Freeing one hand from around Clove I tapped nervously on the door and waited for the sound of movement from inside.

The door opened and warm light spilled out across the front steps, blinding me. Our neighbour Amica stood silhouetted in the doorway. I looked up and met her eyes, biting my lip. She took one look at me, clutching the screaming baby, and stepped aside, letting me into her home.

Wordlessly I climbed the steps and walked through her hallway into the kitchen where I had spent a lot of time as a child. It was strange that she didn't need an explanation from me as to why there was a nine year old on her doorstep holding a baby. With the care of a natural mother she reached out and took Clove from me, pulling the blankets back and peering at her face. "Hello there, sweetheart," she cooed and Clove stopped crying immediately. I gave a sigh and collapsed into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. My heart slowed at the silence that followed but I still felt panic in my veins.

I watched how Amica held her and wondered if I could learn to look after this baby from her. "Her name is Clove," I said eventually. She lifted her eyes from the baby to me and stared at me seriously for a moment. "I couldn't make her stop crying. I-I don't know...is she hungry?"

Amica looked at Clove again and gave a little smile at the baby. She poked her nose with a finger and I heard a small gurgle. "She's not hungry. She was scared."

"Scared?" I repeated perplexed. What did a thing that couldn't even think have to be scared of?

Amica nodded. "She probably picked up your heartbeat." She looked at me intently again. "She was scared because you were scared."

"Oh," I replied dumbly. It seemed an odd idea to me that she could tell that I was scared. I was usually pretty good at hiding it.

Amica nodded and turned away, still carrying Clove with ease as she walked into the kitchen. She returned a moment later carrying a bottle filled with milky liquid. She handed Clove back to me, resting her in my arms, and then handed me the bottle. "No time like the present to learn."

I stared between the baby and the bottle in Amica's hand and then hesitantly reached out and took it. Amica laughed. "She's not going to bite, Enobaria," she teased gently. "Well, at least not yet." She laughed at her own joke but it passed me by as I looked at Clove. Fumbling slightly I directed the bottle towards her little rosebud mouth. With another chuckle Amica leant forward and helped me hold her right till she was sucking happily on the bottle, her eyes closed and her little hands flexing in and out. We both watched her in silence.

I stared at her with a mixture of fascination and growing sense of dread. This wasn't a life for a little baby. How was I going to keep her safe when I couldn't even keep myself safe?

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_Amica means friend or friendship_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you reviewers, especially snitchstar, my faithful follower friend. And for Anla'shok I hope here is some more intensity for you. :)**

When we turned twelve senior training began. It was only offered to a maximum of the three top students from each year group in the Junior Training Centre, often less. It was those who had performed well enough in skill, fitness and intelligence. No one had expected my name to be one of those three. I saw with satisfaction as people spun around to look at me, some starting as if they hadn't even ever noticed me before. Being invisible had served me well here. It had allowed me to determinedly work away at becoming the best. I wasn't distracted by friends and other such petty things. For me, there had never been any question that I would get accepted. If I hadn't made the cut I hated to think how angry my father would have been. He was disappointed enough with my performance usually, I'm not sure I would have made it to thirteen if I hadn't gotten into the Centre.

He was far from my mind as I arrived at the formidable building on the first day. I looked up at the grey concrete building and tried to imagine what the next five years of my life were going to be like in there. I couldn't even entertain the idea that I would get cut. My life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't make it to volunteering for the Hunger Games when I turned eighteen. A stream of people passed me walking into the building and someone shoved me roughly in the back. I turned around to glare at them but I couldn't tell which of the laughing, rowdy boys it was. Curling my hands into fists I straightened my back stubbornly and stalked into the building.

We gathered in a small cluster in the entrance hall as other students streamed around us through the main doors. They called out to us, teasing and challenging the newest victims of the trainers. I tried to tune out their calls, they were only trying to intimidate us. There were seven people in the group, all twelve years old, though to my dismay I saw I was by far the smallest; two girls and five boys, all of which towered over me. I recognised one of the boys from my class in junior training, but the others must have come from different classes. They all stood in a tight group, and like me had their arms crossed over their chests, trying to appear tough and unintimidated by the shouts of the older students around us and the stern presence of a trainer before us. He was young and I guessed one of the graduate students who hadn't made it to the Games.

We'd been informed of the process. There were three Senior trainers at the Centre. We would be distributed amongst their classes and they would be responsible for training us for the next six years. For now we were all going to be led into the main room where the trainers initial inspection of us would begin. He told us we would automatically be placed in Aemilia's class. He said her name with a slight flinch which didn't do much to ease the nerves that were slowly writhing in my stomach. The other girl of the group glanced nervously at the boy next to her. He said that if we were good enough we'd make it through to the next day of training. Just because we had been selected didn't mean that trainers would have us. If we weren't good enough we were out, simple as that. Some of us might get pulled for the specialised groups. They were run by the other two Senior trainers. That could happen at any point in the six years and I knew from the respectful tone of his voice that getting pulled was a big deal.

I tried to focus on his words as he droned onto us about the structure of the classes, but my attention kept flickering to the other students around me. I couldn't help but consider that there were the people I was going to have to beat to become volunteer in six years time. One of them would be going into the Arena with me. One of them I was going to have to kill if I wanted to come out. My eyes roamed over their tense, arrogant, and nervous faces and wondered which one it would be.

The main room of the training centre was like a large cave. Concrete walls decorated with spidery cracks and concrete floors scattered with padded mats and sparring students. Looking up as we walked into the centre of the room I was momentarily blinded by a shaft of sunlight that fell from high windows along the far side of the room.

"Line up!" A voice like a shard of ice snapped me from my thoughts and I glanced back down to my own level, realising I was the only one left hovering on the edge of the mats. The others had all spread in a loose circle around a central floor. In the middle stood a small woman. Her long black hair was twisted up into a fearsome knot behind her head and her black eyes were cold, cruel and resting on me. Feeling my stomach flip with nervous fear I hurried forward into a small gap between two boys who were both a head taller than me. There was a hushed titter of scorn among the group and I glanced furiously down at the ground, my fists balling themselves automatically. "Well, seeing as Eno_baria_ Reyes here seems to have wool between her ears maybe she should go first, knock some of it out."

I flinched as the woman spat my name out. Her voice was venomous and I could feel her eyes on me. Refusing to show my fear to her I slowly lifted my head and took a step forwards. I didn't know how this woman knew my name, or why she was looking at me with such complete hatred, but I was determined to prove myself. I was born to be a Career.

Feeling energy zip through my limbs I began to bounce slightly on the balls of my feet, pacing in a wary circle as the trainer's eyes roamed the lines of new students. Suddenly her gaze fell on the boy I had been standing next to and she smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "You. Name?" She pointed a long finger at him. The boy grinned as if he thought it all a game and stepped forwards.

"Ronan," he said in a lilting voice. He had a nice smile but his eyes were cruel and as they drifted passed the trainer to settle on me I felt my stomach do another flip. He licked his lips hungrily.

The trainer wordlessly handed him a padded wooden bat. My eyes widened as Ronan wrapped his fingers around the handle, a malicious smile spreading further across his face, and the trainer stepped backwards. Where was my bat? As if to answer my question she stepped to the edge of the floor and let her eyes connect with mine. "Begin," she said in an emotionless voice. Her gaze was completely uncaring as she looked at me. A sudden movement out of the corner of my eye was enough to send me instinctively ducking, and only just in time as Ronan's bat swung where my head had been. Gasping as I hit the mat I rolled and was up again in a second, feeling the heady tingle of adrenalin racing through my veins mixing with the sharp pain of connection in my wrist.

Ronan was on me almost as quick as I had leapt to my feet. He had much faster reflexes than I would have guessed for a guy his size and the bat was swinging down towards me as I dived aside.

"Get her!" "Now! Now!" Voices were calling all around me and I didn't know who it was calling for my blood as I rolled and spun and stumbled away from Ronan's bat. He didn't tire and if anything he was only getting more precise. Just as I narrowly spun away from one hit, feeling the rush of air as the bat passed inches from my shoulder, I heard a loud snap.

"Enough," came the trainer's cold voice but I was too busy concentrating on Ronan and his bat to see what she was doing. The next thing I knew was a sharp pain as a blow to my ribs sent me flying across the mat. Despite my shock and pain I rolled over onto my knees, coughing and gasping in air, as I looked up. The blow hadn't come from Ronan. I had had my eyes on him the whole time.

He looked just as surprised as I did as he tossed his back restlessly from one hand to another and looked over his shoulder at my second attacker. A second boy I didn't recognise smiled down at me and lifted his own bat. The trainer smiled grimly from behind the line of eager and anxious students. She had grown impatient with my ducking and diving and she had decided she wanted to finish this.

"She's mine!" Ronan hissed as I lifted myself from my knees to my feet. Sharp pains shot around my chest but they weren't anything I couldn't handle. I'd had worse.

"Not if I get her first," replied the other boy playfully, striding forward with a grin and swinging his arm out as he spoke. Without difficulty I ducked away from it and darted behind him. But it was difficult to keep my attention on both of them, and it didn't take them long to realise they could work together. When they split up and began to circle me from two directions I knew I was in trouble. I couldn't keep looking between both of them, wondering who was going to attack first, and it only took half a second of my concentration on Ronan for the other boy to pounce. He brought me to the ground with a smack to my lower back that knocked the breath from me again and sent me sprawling at Ronan's feet. Abandoning his weapon he kicked me sharply in the ribs and sent me flipping over. I could handle the pain but now I could hear laughing from the onlooking crowd. Humiliation flooded through me like a black wave and clouded my vision with rage. All I could do to defend myself as both boys launched into me was curl up into a little ball and hope someone would stop them before they killed me. The powerlessness hurt me far more than any of the kicks or blows that rained down on my body.

* * *

Eventually the trainer must have had enough, because there was a sharp cry and the blows stopped. Warily I lifted my hands from my head and looked up. Everyone was standing in a silent circle around the mat and they wore expressions ranging from pity to contempt. Both sliced deep to my dignity. With a determination I knew I strangely owed to my father and his cruelty I climbed stiffly and painfully to my feet, lifting my head and staring at them hard. I shoved the aching and searing pain that seemed to come from every bone and muscle to the back of my mind and turned to the trainer, giving her my coldest look. I wasn't going to be broken, not by the likes of her. She stared at me critically for a few silent moments and I could see unreadable thoughts flickering across her eyes. Then she stepped slowly towards me and I ignored the moment of concern that entered my mind. I held her gaze till she was standing right in front of me.

Her mouth curled into a cruel smile that was truly chilling. "You're just like your mother, Reyes. Let's hope that, unlike her, someone kills you early and saves us all the misery of your existence." Her words were too soft for anyone else to possibly hear and I could tell from the ripple of whispering that moved around the group that they were all curious about what she had said to me in such a cold tone. There was a hatred more profound than anything I had ever seen before in her eyes as she looked at me. Then she spun on her heel and stormed away without another word to any of us. I watched her small but terrifying figure disappear from the room and I knew that I was in for a long and painful five years of training.

Another ripple of curiosity went around the group and I turned back to them, limping forward, ignoring their gazes on me and resumed my position in the line. I stared determinedly ahead of me as another trainer walked over and took a position on the centre of the group. He was as tall and broad as the other trainer had been short and slight but he was his own form of terrifying. As he stood and ran his eyes along the line I looked up. Our eyes connected and he held my gaze for a long moment. His expression was guarded but I thought I detected a hint of amusement there. He nodded his head slightly to me, a slight nod of approval, and continued down the line. I looked back at the ground and tried to hide my smile of pride.

"Welcome to Senior Training everyone," he said in a gruff voice that was laced with dry amusement.

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_Aemilia means rival_


	4. Chapter 4

It only took one week of bruises forming on top of bruises for me to learn the invaluable skill of aggressive defence. Instead of merely dodging and diving the attacks of my larger and stronger opponents I learnt to dart in as they turned, and kick at their shins, knees, ribs. Carefully I watched the older students train and took note of how the best ones didn't rely on mere strength or brawn or their weapons. They used every skill they had, and if that involved a sneaky attack and slice to their opponents throat then that was alright. It seemed that there were no moral rules of combat here. If your opponent was down you didn't wait for them to rise to their feet again, you took advantage of their position and launched into them even more aggressively. A few people learnt that the hard way. They cried out in outrage about the 'fairness of the fight'. Two weeks into training one of the girls decided to throw a tantrum in the middle of the mat after her opponent used his friend among the watching students to hold her down. The trainer looked amused by her outrage and promptly held a knife to her throat, drawing a threatening line of crimson beads from her skin.

It was the first real blood I had seen on the training mats. It surprised me how horrified I was at the sight of the trainer with the blade pressed to the smaller girl's throat- horrified, but thrilled. The trainer had turned, bloody knife held aloft, and given us all a look that told us it was a clear warning. This was survival of the fittest and cruellest. There was no place for sentimentality or morality within these walls. You did what you had to do in order to survive regardless of the cost.

"It's preparation for the Arena," remarked a soft voice from behind me as I stared at the bloody knife in the trainer's hand. I turned to find myself in the shadow of the man who had welcomed us on the first day. "No one will let you cry foul in there. Your knife enters them first or you're dead."

He stared with a hard gaze at the blood on the floor and didn't look at me for several moments. I wasn't sure whether he expected a response from me so I went with the safe option and stayed silent. After a few moments his eyes snapped to me. Although he was formidable and I had seen him shouting and striking out at other students there was something about him that was less terrifying to me than any of the other trainers. I pondered it as he studied me, his eyes flicking critically up and down my body. He didn't look impressed, but then, my size and stature had not won me much support from the trainers here. That was fine; it just meant I got to enjoy the shocked looks on their faces when I won.

"You're Reyes, aren't you?" he said, scowling at me. I turned my body to fully face him, straightened my back and nodded. My name did not bring me much support in here either. It had taken the other students only two days to enlighten me on why the trainer on our first day- Aemilia- had taken such an instant dislike to me. My mother had taken her place when she volunteered for her Games. Aemilia had been eighteen and lost her only chance at Victory and the subsequent honour. She had never forgiven my mother and, it appeared, was never going to forgive me. As two of the District's more renowned Victors, for whatever reasons, my parent's names carried significant weight in the training centre. Most of it was not positive and I was quickly learning that.

He chuckled as if he found my defiance amusing. Then his smile was promptly wiped from his face. "Follow me," he barked, turning and marching away. I hesitated only half a second and then quickly hurried after him, struggling to maintain a dignified pace as I attempted to keep up with his long strides. He led me out of the main training room into an area I had not seen before. It was behind an unobtrusive black door marked with a gold cross and led into a narrow, bland corridor lined with doors.

As the black door snapped shut behind us, leaving us in the dimly lit corridor and cut off from the rest of the centre, I felt my body tense with nervousness. I lifted slightly onto the balls of my feet, prepared to fight, and watched the man warily. But he didn't seem to be paying me much attention and instead walked straight to one of the doors and rapped on the surface. Without waiting for a reply he pushed it open and walked inside. Trying not to appear hesitant I followed him, peering into the room anxiously. As I walked through the door he was holding open he made an impatient noise. "Hurry up," he snapped.

The order seemed purely habitual as I was already standing in the room staring in amazement around. It was strangely long and thin with bare walls and only one skylight in the roof. There was one of the older students, a girl, standing near us but facing away towards the far end of the room where a series of distant targets lined the wall. As I watched her she suddenly spun into motion, flicking around in a circle that made her hair fly out from her in a halo. Her movements were so fast that her arm flying out and flicking a small object towards the targets was almost a blur. There was a loud thud and my eyes flew to the target to see the handle of a knife sticking straight out from the centre. It had all happened so fast I had barely even realised she had thrown the knife before it was embedded in the target. My eyes must have been wide with amazement because when she turned to face us she regarded me with amusement. She looked surprisingly friendly. There was no coldness or cruelness to her eyes, instead they gleamed almost pleasantly as she took us both in.

"Hello Domitius," she said amiably, ignoring me. I looked to the trainer next to me and realised this must have been his name. Somehow it fitted a little unnervingly perfectly with his towering stature and fierce demeanour. To my surprise he actually smiled at the girl and nodded his head in greeting.

"Very impressive Tacita. Someone very talented must have taught you well."

The girl laughed and bent to pick up three knives that had been sitting at her feet. With nimble fingers she slid them into pockets and sheaths in her belt. Finally she slid one into a hidden sheath on her arm and it made me wonder how many blades she could conceal on her. The thought was thrilling. "Well, my teacher was a little full of himself but he was alright," she shrugged and with amazement I realised they were teasing each other. The whole friendliness and banter of the conversation seemed totally as odds with everything I had experienced so far in the Senior Training Centre. I looked between Tacita and Domitius with curiosity. I half expected Domitius to be angry with the clear insult in her words but he just laughed dryly and walked towards her.

"I suppose I deserve that," he commented, squinting at the distant target. "Your aim is impeccable, as always." He turned back and seemed to remember for the first time that I was there. "Do you mind if we take the room Tass?" He said in what was clearly not intended as a request. The girl was already walking silently towards the door. She seemed to have the ability to move soundlessly and something about it was quite unnerving. "I've got some fresh meat to test out," Domitius continued, his eyes moving to rest on me.

As she passed me Tacita's eyes flickered over me as well and she smiled again. "Have fun little one," she said mischievously, as if she and I were part of some joke together, and slipped from the room.

I looked back at Domitius. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest. It only added to his intimidating presence. For the first time I noticed that his forearms, neck, hands and clean shaven head were crossed with pale silvery scars. They weren't overly obvious but once I knew they were there I found my eyes continuously returning to them. With interest I noted that his face was surprisingly free of scars. I wondered if these battle marks were what awaited me if I managed to survive not only five years in this training centre but my own Hunger Games too.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he barked, interrupting my train of thought and I jumped involuntarily as I realised I had been staring at him. He nodded to the wall behind me and I half turned, following his gesture, to see racks of knifes lined up on the wall. "Chose a knife and let's see what you've got."

I surveyed the rows of weapons. They were beautiful in their own, menacing way. Some of them were unsheathed and their blades gleamed dully in the dim light of the room. They ranged in size. There were tiny knives of only an inch or two long that looked childlike and delicate and probably wouldn't kill someone, unless slid across the right part of the body. Others were easily twelve inches long and four inches wide at the handle and sent a cold shiver down my spine.

There were ones that looked like simple knives; black, ebony handle and broad silver blade finishing in a fearsome point. Others were more creative and unlike any knives I had ever seen. They had holes in the handles, presumably for your fingers. One section had fearsome curved spikes down the sides of the blade and I realised with a sickening thrill that they were to do even more damage when you pulled the blade back out of flesh.

I skipped passed these and settled instead on a row of five knives with dull black handles of plastic. They were among the smallest and plainest of the sets, and that was what drew me to them. They seemed almost innocent looking but I knew from watching Tacita that wielded correctly they could kill in an instant. I liked that they were small; small, deadly and deceptively innocent.

The blade was about five inches long, perfectly symmetrical and with a deep groove running down the centre. I lifted two from the rack and weighed them in my palm carefully. They were incredibly light and I could tell they would fly fast.

After what felt like an eternity studying the knives I turned back to Domitius. He was watching me critically, his eyes narrowed, and something akin to amusement flickered across his face as he surveyed my choice. I looked down anxiously at it, twisting it over in my hands.

"My mother used throwing knives," I said expressionlessly without looking up from the blade.

Domitius didn't respond for a moment and I wondered if he had heard me. But when I looked up he was looking at me intently. "I know," he replied simply and turned away. I stared at his back and wondered what emotion I had seen flash in his eyes as he turned away.

He didn't say anything else, just uncrossed his arms and took a step backwards, placing his back against the wall and motioning me towards the target. I stared between him and the wall dubiously but felt it probably wasn't a good idea to point out that I had never handled a knife before and had absolutely no idea how to throw it let alone make it hit that target.

I held my tongue and stepped up to a faint line that was drawn on the floor where Tacita had been standing. I conjured in my mind how her body had looked the second before she hurled the knives at the wall, and I did my best to copy it. I could feel though that it wasn't quite right. If I tried to copy the image in my mind my balance was off. Altering my stance slightly I turned so I was facing the target on a slight angel and lifted my arm. A few times I swung my arm through the air, getting a feel for the blade in my hand. On the fourth swing I released it and watched hopefully as it sailed towards the target.

It hit the wall with a loud clang and clattered to the ground and I stared at it in disappointment. I'd been able to see its path in my mind so clearly and yet I couldn't recreate it. Without waiting for criticism from Domitius I lifted the second knife and tried again. This time I tried flicking my wrist more, thinking I needed more spin on the knife. It worked, somewhat. The knife hit the target but the blade failed to sink into the soft wood and it too clattered to the ground to join its friend. I lowered my arm slowly and tried to mask my disappointment before I turned to Domitius. He still hadn't said anything as I turned to him and I half expected to be shouted at, at the very least. I braced, waiting for the blow I was sure was coming, and stared at him defiantly.

But he didn't move. He clenched his teeth and glared at me with an unreadable expression. "Why did you choose that one?" he said eventually, nodding at the knives on the ground under the target.

I followed his gaze, momentarily off balance by the unexpected question. "It- they felt right," I said without thinking. He nodded once and turned, striding from the room. I stared at the wall where he had been standing for a moment, thoroughly confused and not sure what to do, until I heard his loud voice boom from the corridor.

"Move it!" he shouted and I burst to life, darting out into the corridor and trying to keep up with his footsteps as he strode down the corridor and back into the main training room. He crossed the room, heedless of the sparring students that scattered before him. I scurried in his shadow and tried to figure out where we were going. My stomach dropped as I realised his destination.

Aemilia was standing with another trainer against one wall and was watching us come closer with a sour look on her face. Domitius halted a few feet from her and they glared at each other silently for a moment. I stayed behind him, suddenly nervous. Was this where he handed me over to her for God knows what because I hadn't hit the target? I was expecting some form of painful punishment and if he was letting Aemilia administrate it then it was definitely not going to be pleasant.

"I'm claiming this one," Domitius commanded eventually in a tone that said there was no room for discussion. Still not understanding his words I dropped my gaze as Aemilia's cold eyes flicked to me.

"You want Reyes?" she said icily and I could feel her gaze burning through me.

Domitius gave a grunt of annoyance. "That's what I said, didn't I? I'm claiming your student, Aemilia. From now on she trains under me."

It took me a moment to comprehend his words and when I did I dared to look up, incredulous that I wasn't going to be punished. I tried not to let my relief and happiness show on my face as I stared back at Aemilia. She looked even more furious than before but it seemed there was nothing she could do about it. Domitius held more power than she did and she knew it. She set her lips in a thin line and nodded curtly, not meeting Domitius' eyes. As if he had been waiting for her concession he gave another grunt of approval and turned, almost crashing into me.

"Walk, Reyes, now!" he barked and I hurriedly stepped back, letting him storm ahead before I followed. As I went I threw a quick glance over my shoulder at Aemilia. She stared at me coldly for a moment and then turned stiffly away. Somehow I thought that just because I was no longer under her tutoring it didn't mean I was going to be free of her hatred. And Domitius seemed to have only added to her reasons for detesting me, something I hadn't thought would be possible.

* * *

_Domitius means to tame_

_Tacita means silent_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the correction snitchstar, although Australian spelling of adrenalin doesn't have an E. You might notice a few different spellings throughout because I use non-American spellings.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Dear several hundred people who are reading and not reviewing: feedback would be much appreciated. Dear people who are reviewing: thank you my lovelies. -Lu**

* * *

That evening I was standing by the bench in the kitchen when I heard the door bang, signalling that my parents were home. I ignored it and looked up at Clove, who was sitting on the edge of the bench, her little legs swinging in the air.

"Open up," I said and lifted a spoon of something gross looking that I'd found in the cupboard. I didn't give her a chance to complain about the look of the food, just put the spoon in her mouth. The way she scrunched up her face told me it tasted about as good as it looked. I sighed. "Sorry Clo. It's all I could find in the cupboard."

She made an indignant noise and yanked the spoon from her mouth. "Yuk," she said and threw it across the floor. For a three year old she certainly had a lot of attitude. I glared at her and dropped down behind the counter to pick it up. When I rose again my parents were standing in the doorway glaring into the room.

"Hello," I said warily, placing the spoon on the counter next to Clove. She went to reach for it again but I quickly yanked it away and gave her hand a light tap. She scowled at me but didn't say anything. She knew that the presence of my parents in the room meant to be quiet. I looked up at them trying to gauge their moods. They had been on a visit to the Capitol for some business that was "too complicated for stupid little children" and it was always a gamble whether they would return deliriously happy or raging mad.

My mother walked into the room without acknowledging me and walked up to Clove. She picked her up as if she was a sack of flour and held her before her critically. Clove blinked back at her expressionlessly. "You haven't been looking after her very well," my mother said without looking at me. I ducked my head and studied the ground.

"We're almost out of food." It was a risk to answer her back like that but silence risked greater wrath. I waited for her reaction, tensed in case I could expect a blow, but I was answered with silence. Glancing up warily I saw she had plopped Clove back on the counter and was walking away from us. Instinctively I shuffled sideways so I was standing in front of Clove. I felt cold little fingers wrapping around my elbow but I ignored them.

My father had disappeared into another room but now reappeared, shrugging out of his jacket. He glared at me as he hung it up by the door. "What have you been doing?" he snapped.

I leant backwards into Clove and ran a nervous hand up and down my arm. Realising what I was doing I forced myself to stop. It always made him angry when I fidgeted in front of him. "I got pulled from my training class," I said nervously.

He snorted contemptuously like he found it amusing. My mother appeared in the doorway, giving me a hard look. "You have no skill," she stated as if she found the idea of me being pulled ridiculous. They'd always been embarrassed by how weak I seemed compared to the other children. The fact that I was small and slight was something of great shame to my father.

I shrugged. "I'm learning to throw knives." I looked hopefully at my mother, wondering if the knowledge that I'd been pulled for her old specialty would give me reason to see the first flicker of pride in her eyes ever. But she started, shaking her head. She threw a nervous glance at my father and that was when I realised he had frozen. Slowly he turned and fixed me with stony eyes that made me want to shrink against the counter.

"You're _what_?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. My mother stepped forward and placed a hand on his elbow but he roughly shook it off and made a movement towards me. I stepped backwards a little way and collided with Clove. I'd almost forgotten about her little hands clutching at the back of my top. She made a noise but I didn't turn around. "And _who_ would want to train _you_?" my father asked, seeming to reign in his fury. His voice was still tight with controlled anger though and my heart was beating hard in my chest.

My eyes flickered to my mother but she didn't look at me. "Domitius," I said in a quiet voice, unsure if it was a good answer or not. The name seemed to inspire opposite reactions in them. My mother clutched a hand to her mouth and hurriedly stepped towards my father. She had paled almost instantly and for once she looked worried. I doubt it was worry for me though. My father froze, his features set in a look of pure anger. His eyes were fixed on me and I was pinned by his gaze, too scared to move but desperate to look away. He was the angriest I had seen him in a long time and I still didn't understand what had inspired it.

"_Never mention that name in my house again_," he hissed in a deathly whisper that sent a fierce shiver down my spine. His eyes stayed on me for several moments more and I was mentally preparing myself for his attack when suddenly he turned and stormed from the room, ignoring my mother's anxious calls to him. I heard the front door slam as he left again. The windows in the kitchen rattled and Clove let out a little whimper at the loud noise. I could tell from the death grip she had on my shirt that she was as tense as I was.

My mother refused to look at me. She gazed after my father for a few moments and then sighed. She suddenly looked completely exhausted and for the first time I realised that she wasn't a young woman any more. There were lines on her face and her eyes looked too old and tired. Without looking at either Clove or I she walked slowly from the room. I heard her footsteps shuffle down the hall and then the snap of her bedroom door. We wouldn't be seeing her again this evening.

Letting out a breath I didn't even realise I had been holding I turned to Clove. She stared at me with huge, anxious eyes, looking as always for reassurance from me. I tried to give her a steady smile but I knew it wouldn't reach my eyes. My heart was still pounding in my chest and when I reached out to pick Clove up my hands were shaking. I hauled her into my arms and she snuggled into my neck. It was comforting to have her warmth and weight against me and for a few moments I closed my eyes rested my forehead against hers. I listened to her rhythmic breathing and with it my own heartbeat returned to normal. Opening my eyes I saw she was still staring at me so I gave her another smile, this one a little more convincing than the last. "How about we go to bed Clover?" I asked. "I'll tell you a good story tonight okay?"

We made our way up the stairs and I went straight to my little cupboard of a room. It wasn't big enough to hold Clove's bed but it didn't matter tonight. She wriggled into the pile of sheets and blankets on my bed, making a little cocoon for herself, as I closed the door. I turned the lock on the handle and it sealed us in with a sharp snap. Oh how many times I had thanked the universe for that lock. With the sound of the bolt sliding into place the last of my panic finally subsided and I turned to the bed. All I could see was Clove's large eyes peeking out at me from the nest she had made and I found myself smiling at the sight and flopping onto the bed next to her. "Which story do you want tonight?" I asked, wriggling into the covers next to her. Safe within our nest of soft blankets and with the feel of her heartbeat under my fingertips I finally let myself relax.

* * *

There was no sign of either my parents the following morning. I had not heard my father return home last night and when I threw a glance at their bedroom door it was still firmly shut. The entire time I was getting Clove and I ready, my ears were straining for any sound from them. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to see them or not. Last night I had lain awake for a long time, playing over my encounter with them in my head. Every way I looked at it all I got was confusion and questions. There was clearly something there but there was absolutely no way I could ask either of them about it.

As I watched Clove toddle from the table to the counter and back again, looking extremely pleased with herself, I decided what I needed to do. I couldn't ask either of my parents about it, so I would go to the other party involved. Whether it was a good idea or not I made up my mind to ask Domitius about it that day.

Walking to the training centre I stopped at the familiar gate of our neighbour. Amica had lived next door to us for as long as I could remember and her large and loud family always seemed such a severe contrast to ours. Because we lived on the edge of town our houses were a fair distance apart and separated by a patch of dark pine trees. As I arrived at the gate the front door was thrown open and three boys sprinted down the steps. They all had the strong build and golden blonde hair of her family and they shouted and jostled to each other as they dashed down the path. A smaller figure ran after them but he tripped and fell halfway down the path. His brothers turned and laughed, not offering him any assistance, and the small boy climbed stubbornly to his feet, scowling at them and shouting words that a six year old should not know. I covered Clove's ears and cleared my throat to announce my presence. All four boys turned in unison and broke into grins at the sight of me.

"Hey Enobaria!" they called. The three older boys laughed and shoved each other roughly.

"To school! Now!" Amica shouted from the doorway and their smiles dropped. Sheepishly they shuffled passed me, waving glumly. Their misery didn't last long. By the time they had reached the end of the block they were laughing and shoving each other around again. The smallest boy stared sadly after his brothers then looked back at me.

"Hey En," he said dejectedly. "Hey Clo."

"Hello Cato." I felt sorry for him as I saw the clear longing in his eyes as he looked after his brothers. Without another word to me he turned and trudged back up the path, slipping passed his mother and disappearing back into the house. I walked the short distance to Amica and suppressed a smile at the exasperated expression she gave me.

"Are you sure you don't want to adopt a few to keep this little one company?" she asked me, reaching out and taking Clove from my arms. Clove reached out her hands for Amica and sat smiling happily in her arms.

"I'm not sure I could handle them as well as you," I replied evasively. I waved Clove goodbye but she was too busy playing with Amica's hair to notice. We were lucky to have Amica and her family next door. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't leave Clove with her whilst I went to training. She had been looking after Clove most days basically since that day I had arrived on her doorstep with the baby in my arms. I had distant but fond memories of time spent in her kitchen. It had been before the boys arrived and Amica had been only too keen to temporarily adopt the child who wandered aimlessly and lonely around the block. Still, every time I walked away from the house I was too acutely aware that no matter how nice Amica was and how willing she was to impart a little bit of much needed care, her house would never be home to Clove and I. We would always have to return to the dilapidated, cold and lonely house next door.

* * *

It was with a straight back and determined gaze that I walked passed the people who yesterday had been my fellow students. They whispered to each other as I went and I had a feeling I didn't want to know what they were saying. I had won no friends in my short time under Aemilia's tutorage and now that I was training with Domitius and the few students who trained under him they liked me even less. It didn't matter to me though. I had never had a single friend in my life. I wasn't sure I'd know what to do with one if I did have it. So their coldness had never mattered much to me.

I struggled to concentrate that morning. Part of me wished I could. Domitius was going through the display of knives with me, telling me how each one functioned and what they were best used for. He would take each one down, pass it to me and watch me critically as I turned it over in my hands, running a finger along the cool metal of the blade and fitting my fingers around the handles. Some of them felt awkward and strange in my hands and I'd pull a face and quickly pass them back to him. Others felt so unbelievably right. Some of them felt as if they had been intended for my hands alone to wrap around them and when I swung them through the air it was if they were an extension of my own body. I never needed to say any of this; Domitius would simply watch me and place a mark under the racks of blades that I liked.

But as much as I admired the knives placed before me part of my brain was nervously fluttering over what I wanted to ask Domitius. I glanced towards the door a few times and eventually Domitius had had enough.

"What is wrong with you?" he snapped, glowering at me. I locked my eyes back on him and tried to look apologetic. I was still unsure of him and too aware that my position here was fragile. I didn't want to risk angering him. "You're as twitchy as a rabbit today, more than usual."

I shook my head mutely, too worried that he was in a bad mood already and it probably wasn't the best time to start asking difficult questions. But it was as if the question were pressing at my brain, demanding to be released. Domitius sighed in frustration. "Look. I need complete concentration. Always. You're handling weapons now, not t-"

"Do you know my father?" I asked suddenly, cutting him off. He stopped, frozen, and looked at me. I cowered back but held his gaze, not sure whether he was going to be furious with me or not. I still wasn't sure if he was someone I could trust. He hadn't yet given me any reason to fear cruelty from him but this was a man who had made his life out of violence and aggression. There wasn't much to trust in that.

Eventually he lowered his arm from the rack and crossed them across his chest. "Everyone knows your father." There was an edge of sarcasm to his words and I looked at him critically, trying to figure out if he was being cruel but he returned my gaze stonily.

"Yes," I admitted dryly, wondering just how much people knew of my father. He wasn't the courageous and handsome eighteen year old who had won our district fame any more. "But do you _know_ know him? I-" I paused and glanced at the ground. "I mentioned you to him last night and he got really angry. "

Domitius looked over my head and frowned. He looked angry himself and I was worried that it was what I had said. "I do not know your father well," he said coldly and then his face softened. Not much, but it lost its murderous look. "But I knew your mother, Cassandra. We used to train together when we were young."

I looked up at him in surprise. "You knew my mother?" The idea of my mother and Domitius knowing each other when they were younger was strange to me. He didn't seem like the type of person she would have been friends with. Then again, I wasn't sure what type of person that was. I had never seen her with any adults apart from officials and my father. She didn't really have _friends_. I looked closely at Domitius, trying to strip away the years and the scars and see him as he would have been at eighteen. It was hard. I frowned and blinked, clearing the confusion from my mind. Then another question popped into my brain. "Why does my father hate you?"

"Why does he hate _you_?" The questioned fired back at me threw me completely off guard. A flush of anger and embarrassment flooded my cheeks and I looked at the ground. No one at school or training or in town had ever mentioned to me that they were aware of how my father was. I knew most of the town probably knew but it served us all well to pretend they didn't. I couldn't handle the shame and embarrassment if anyone had acknowledged the bruises I had arrived at school with most weeks. Hearing Domitius frame the question so bluntly made my stomach do a painful flip. He stayed silent, clearly expecting an answer. I didn't know how to reply. I didn't know why my father hated me. I knew what he hated _about_ me but that was about it. I took a deep breath and looked back up at Domitius.

"I'm a girl. I'm weak. I'm small. I'm useless." I reeled off the list of things my father constantly reminded me of in a flat voice. I didn't pity myself, they were just facts. I held Domitius' gaze with a steely determination, refusing to be the first to look away. Eventually he gave a satisfied grunt and turned back to the knives. He lifted one from the wall and passed it to me.

"This is a dragon blade. Best used in close range against larger opponents..." he continued with the lesson as if our conversation had never happened but as I took the weapon from him and rolled it over in my hands I couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen _this_ particular blade to hand me next. As I glanced up at him I thought perhaps I caught a flash of something fierce in his eyes.

* * *

_Cato means All Knowing_

(As for his brothers, their names haven't been introduced yet but their characters have so-)

_Pax means Peace_

_Taras means Rebel_

_Aron means Light Bringer_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay dear readers. I officially finish my first uni degree in 3 weeks so there's a lot to sort out. -Lu**

My training fell into a rhythm that was comforting. It wasn't easy. If I had thought I came home with bruises and aches before then this was agony. There were three of us younger ones that Domitius trained. Junia and Manius were both a year older than me but it didn't seem to matter. We trained and fought together like equals. They weren't unkind but they had that steely determination in their eyes that told me they weren't going to let anything get in their way. I wondered how long it would take me to gain that. Something within me still wanted to hesitate sometimes before raining down a final blow. After the first time it happened, I disappeared into a corner and contemplated it quietly. It may look like I was reluctant to hurt someone in a way that could possibly be irreversible, but it was definitely not that. After a while I realised that I was scared of the repercussions. I had wanted to hit back for years, to do damage, but I was too used to their being a heavy price to pay for an outburst of violence. Once I realised this I gave myself a firm lecture and vowed to not let it happen again. Outbursts of violence were required here, not punished. Nevertheless though, the thoughts crept in a few more times and I found myself hesitating. Domitius shouted at me for half an hour the first time it happened again. I heard it all, that hesitation like that had no place in training or anywhere, that it would have meant the death of me in the Arena and could easily mean it here too. I understood, but it took work.

We trained until I thought my limbs were going to fall off. Every day we went out into the woods and ran for miles and miles, even if it was sleeting and dark. We learnt how to block and attack and dodge. We learnt how to use swords, spears, bows, and most importantly knives. It seemed every one of us had been chosen because of how we handled a blade. They were Domitius' specialty and I couldn't help but remember the footage I had seen of my mother's games where she sent dozens of throwing knives into her enemies' bodies with lighting precision. I wondered if she and Domitius had learnt to throw knives side by side. I never raised the issue of my parents with him again though. I had no desire to discuss them and I suspect neither did he.

When I walked through the Centre's doors in the morning I determinedly tried to wipe all thought of home from my mind. I couldn't afford the distraction in here. When I tumbled through the front door of home at night, the occasional times my parents were actually home, they never asked me about the bandages and blood and bruises. They looked right through me even more than they had before, which perhaps I should have seen as a blessing. It had been three months and my father had not spoken a single word to me since the night I had told him I was training with Domitius.

Once a week Domitius would take Junia, Manius and I and place us in one of the long throwing practice rooms. We would line up against the wall and pretend like we didn't exist, watching as the older students perfected their technique. I watched every movement they made closely, from the flick of their wrists to the position of their feet. I was determined to become as skilled and vicious as they were.

There were two seventeen year olds and two eighteen year olds but of all of them Tacita, the girl I had met on my first day, was the best. She made every throw look effortless. Her movements had a predatory grace about them and it was deceptively beautiful. It was easy to forget that she was wielding a blade and aimed to kill.

She was nicer than the others, too. Sometimes she would offer to help us, fixing our stances or grip while Domitius watched with narrowed eyes from the other side of the room.

After a few days where we trained with her and the older students she decided to give me the nickname Rabbit. At first I had been offended by the implication of a small and defenceless creature but both her and Domitius had laughed at my scowl. Domitius had uncrossed his arms and nodded in amusement.

"Very fitting for such a jumpy little thing like you," he said. That day as I was packing up my things I felt his hand land on my shoulder and I turned around.

"Don't worry Rabbit," he said, amusement flashing in his eyes as he used the nickname it seemed I was now going to be stuck with. "You know what rabbits do? They survive." With that he walked away, chuckling to himself. I didn't feel so bad about the name now. That evening as I thought of it, it even managed to bring a smile to my lips.

Tacita always gave me a smile, a genuine one, and I wondered how she managed to stay so different from the others. It seemed as if everyone in the Centre was cold and vicious and cruel. While Tacita was deadly, she never seemed to delight in the pain. I didn't think it was going to be possible for me to keep as sane as she did. If I was going to become as good as she, I knew I had to lose any softness I had. Already I could feel the change in me. I looked at the world through harder eyes. It didn't feel like a bad thing though. There was empowerment in it. I looked at everyone and instead of wondering whether they were going to hurt me or not and whether I should flee, as I used to, I knew that I could kill them where they stood if I chose.

* * *

Two weeks before reaping day the announcement of who was chosen to volunteer was made. All the senior trainers, Aemilia and Domitius among them, made the final decision. They went over those who had submitted and they discussed the training records, they analysed their performances and they quizzed them. That was all I knew of the process, except that they weren't just looking for the student who had the best training marks. They were looking for the student that could give the perfect trifecta, as it was known- skill, image, and kill. That's what it was unofficially known as. They wanted the student who could kill another teenager where they stood and smile at the camera as they did it...or smirk or growl menacingly. Whatever they decided would work for that tribute's image that year. I'd watched our volunteers walk up on stage, and enter the Arena, and come out victors, since I was a little girl. But this was the first time that I stood amongst a group and knew that the two chosen to volunteer would be from within that mass.

The room buzzed with nervous energy as fifty or so teenagers from twelve to eighteen fidgeted and waited restlessly for the big announcement. It was pretty much the biggest day of the training year. I could spot the eighteen years olds clearly. They were the most nervous. But it wasn't fear, it was hope. Every single one of them was desperate to hear their name called out. For some of them it would surely mean the difference between life and death because if they did not get the chance to enter that arena they would have nothing. I knew that when I turned eighteen I would be among those. But it wouldn't just be me who would have nothing it would be Clove as well. It made me lift my head a little higher and even though it was five years away and knew I was determined to be the one with my name called out on announcement day. I had no other choice.

There was a rustle of movement as the line of senior trainers filed into the room. They walked silently up to the front of the group and every eye was on them. I could tell by the way some of them walked stiffly that they clearly hadn't been in the majority. I looked towards Domitius but his expression was unreadable and he was fixed on a point somewhere above our heads.

Priscus, the head trainer of the Centre stepped forward and a hush fell. It was so silent I swear I could hear the sound of dozens of hearts beating nervously in their chests. Priscus cleared his throat.

"The male volunteer for the 62nd Hunger Games will be Theodosio Necius," he said in a loud, clear voice. There was a small murmur and a tall blonde boy stepped forwards. He looked just as a Victor should; broad, chiselled and fierce. A few people patted him on the back encouragingly but he walked through the crowd as if he had already forgotten everyone in it. He carried himself like he was already a Victor. The Capitol would love him.

When he had arrived to stand next to Priscus, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes boring into the younger students, everyone looked back at the head trainer. He glanced down at the paper again and this time he glanced at the line of trainers as well. It was curious, almost as if he wasn't sure of the decision. Maybe he hadn't been in the majority, I thought.

"The female volunteer for the 62nd Hunger Games will be Tacita Renaldi!"

My eyes flew to the girl who had smiled at me while she corrected my stance. She sailed silently through the crowd, moving with the grace I now associated with her. Her expression was unreadable, and as I glanced towards Domitius I saw his eyes were fixed on her. I couldn't tell whether he was happy or not. It didn't matter now anyway. Theodosio and Tacita would be entering the Arena in a few short weeks. As they stood either side of Priscus and a round of applause erupted from the students and more reluctantly from the trainers it struck me that in a few short weeks one of them would be dead. I fixed my eyed on Tacita and knew who I hoped it wouldn't be.

* * *

For the first time in my life I properly watched the Hunger Games. And I mean _really_ watched them. In the past, when I had been younger, they just seemed like that thing that happened every year. I usually spent the days or weeks of the Games hiding in my room because for some reason the time of year always made my father exceptionally angry. I would listen to him storming around the house, throwing things and punching into walls, and I wondered why he hated everything so much. My mother always spent even more time than usual in her bedroom, or sitting in a chair staring numbly into space.

This year I watched the Games from the Centre. Training would only run for half a day and then everyone would gather in the main room and watch, trainers and students alike. But no one was allowed to simply, blindly watch the Games. We were looking for the strategies we had learnt about, for the techniques used by other districts. We may not have been training but we were still learning.

Both Tacita and Theodosio did well. Tacita outsmarted a lot of the other tributes and she had the unparalleled skill of creeping silently through the forest. Many tributes didn't even know she was upon them until there was a sharp swoosh and a knife handle was suddenly protruding from their chests. I watched her closely as she stood over the bodies of her victims but her face was always unreadable. Still, she didn't look like the girl who had helped Domitius teach us. She seemed colder, as if she was detached from it all. Maybe you had to be, I thought, as I watched the Career pack rip through a cluster of three tiny teenagers. They took down the two from District 7 and the boy from District 11 and when they were done they were all covered in blood. Theodosio turned to the camera and I saw that there was a bright scarlet streak across his face. He didn't seem phased by the blood there, in fact he wore it with pride. There was a small cheer from the boys on the other side of the room when they saw that.

No one was cheering when he was killed in his sleep by the District 4 boy.

It seemed the Career pack had decided to break up, because Tacita awoke to find her district partner dead and the girl from District 1 about to do the same to her. I could barely keep track of them as they fought and my heart was in my mouth. I found myself willing Tacita to kill her. Many around me were doing so very vocally. The bloodthirstiness and viciousness of the students was very much apparent as Tacita finally managed to send her knife into the other girl's chest. Crimson blood poured over her hands and, as the girl fell to the ground Tacita let go of the knife, letting it slip from her fingers which were now soaked in blood.

Everyone cheered then and I noticed that Domitius' shoulders relaxed slightly. Had he been worried about her?

In the end it came down to a battle between Tacita and the boy from District 4 who had killed Theodosio. I think his name was Aven but no one bothered much with names when they were screaming out for Tacita to rip his head from his shoulders. She didn't quite do that but she did leap away from his sword as it arced towards her chest and in a graceful leap and spin dashed her blade across his throat. He didn't even seem to realise he was dying until he looked up in surprise and clutched a hand to his throat. Blood poured between his fingers. Tacita stood, blade in hand and blood seeping into her clothes from her own wounds, and watched with an eerily calm expression as he crumpled to the ground. Then very slowly she lifted her knife in the air and the entire building erupted into cheering and clapping. Even the trainers who hadn't approved of her selection were nodding and letting tense smiles show. It didn't matter now whether they had wanted her or not, all that mattered was that she had brought honour and pride to the district and even more to the Centre. They slapped Domitius on the back but he appeared to ignore most of them. Just as when Tacita had been selected I found that I couldn't tell whether he was happy or not. He stared at the screen but I wondered if he actually saw it at all.

* * *

The return of a Victor was always so much better than the Games themselves. It was as if the entire district released a tense breath that they had been holding for several weeks. We didn't have to worry about whether we would have honour or shame this year when we had a Victor standing on the steps of the Justice Building and waving to the crowd.

I was among the screaming group from the Centre as Tacita stood on those steps, flanked by more Capitol people than I had ever seen. Her eyes ran over the crowd and she smiled and waved to them but I couldn't help but think that it wasn't quite the same smile I used to see.

I didn't personally see her for several weeks after the end of the Games. I was packing up my things in one of the training rooms when I heard a door bang out in the corridor and voices talking softly. I recognised one of them as Domitius.

Something about the tone of their voices made me feel like I shouldn´t be listening but they seemed to be standing directly outside the door and there was no where I could go. Standing there with my hands over my ears felt a little too stupid so I slowly cleaned and slid my knives into their pockets and found myself accidently listening to their conversation.

"Give it time, Tass," I heard Domitius say. There was a soft thud and silence to answer him. Then his sigh was so audible I suspected he was standing right next to the door. "It's not easy I know but give it time." There was a low muttered reply that I assumed came from Tacita. Domitius sighed again but this time he sounded mildly angry. "Don't say stupid things," he snapped in a voice that sounded more like the Domitius I knew. There was no reply this time and I waited, but only silence followed. All of my knives were in their places now and I couldn't procrastinate any longer. I dawdled to the door and listened again, but I guessed they had both gone by the complete silence from the other side.

I slunk out into the corridor and wasn't expecting to see Tass there, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.

At the sound of the door snapping shut behind me her eyes flew open and for a moment it looked like she was about to attack me. My body instantly tensed and I resisted the urge to take a step backwards, but then her body relaxed as she recognised me and I found myself relaxing too."Hi Rabbit," she said with a tired smile. I didn't smile back but I nodded hesitantly and slung my bladebelt over my shoulder.

"Hi Tass," I said. I was about to walk away, getting the feeling that she didn't really want company, when suddenly I turned, my knives clinking softly against my back. "Hey Tass?" I said and she looked over to me.

"Yeah Rabbit?"

"I thought you were really brave in there," I said awkwardly. It felt strange to be telling her. Obviously she knew she'd done amazing. The entire district was celebrating her and the stupid opinion of a twelve year old wasn't going to mean much. But I had wanted to tell her since I saw her on the steps of the Justice Building. Somehow I felt that she hadn't seemed happy enough with her result and I had wanted to tell her. She looked at me blankly for a few moments and I grew even more uncomfortable. She thought I was stupid. I was about to turn away when she spoke softly.

"It's not bravery to kill people. Remember that when you volunteer, okay Rabbit?" I didn't really understand what she meant but I nodded silently anyway. At the time I was too occupied by the fact that she had said _when_ I volunteered, not _if_. I wanted to smile at the thought that she considered me capable to winning, but the sombreness of her expression stopped me. Instead I turned and walked away from her, my knives rattling comfortingly against me.

* * *

A bit over a week later Domitius walked into our group training session and clapped his hands. We all crowded around him, sheathing our various weapons and looking at him expectantly. He almost never interrupted training. He ran his eyes over us once, his expression grim, and then settled on me. He held my eyes for a few moments then snapped away.

"I have just been informed to tell you that last night our newest Victor was tragically killed in an accident." His voice gave nothing away but his face was set into such a severe expression that I wondered if he was going to snap. It took me a few moments to realise the meaning of his words. Our newest Victor...he meant Tacita. Tass was dead? I felt my mouth open but Junia beat me with the question. Domitius just held up a hand and we all fell silent. "That is all I know and all I would tell you anyway. Now return to training." As he turned on his heel his eyes locked with mine for the briefest of seconds. For once I could read the expression in them and I knew two things. One was that whatever he said and however he appeared he was sad. He was sad that Tacita was dead. The other thing I knew was there was definitely more to her death that he was telling us.

* * *

_Priscus means Ancient _

_Theodosio means Giver of God_

_Junia means Young_

_Manius means Morning_


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few weeks Domitius acted as if nothing had happened. One Thursday he stormed into the Centre and stood glaring in my direction until I got the message that he wanted me to go to him. It wasn't that simple though. I was combat sparring with Manius and even the moment it had taken me to notice Domitius cost me the advantage. From then I was on the defensive as Manius danced towards me and all I could achieve was block after block. The timer sounded just as I knew I was about to lose my balance. Manius stopped and pulled back, panting, and shaking out his limbs.

"What the hell was that Reyes?" he demanded. "Not letting me win are you?"

I coughed as I regained my breath and looked up at him through strands of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail. "In your dreams Ortez," I spat. The words were the usual banter but they never held the same venom between Manius, Junia and I that they did with the other students. Being in Domitius' training isolated us from the rest of them and made us targets to their hate so we tended to instinctively stick together. There wasn't exactly friendship but there was understanding. I think that was as much as I could ever hope for.

Once I had recovered my breath and some of my dignity I jumped down from the mats and walked over to Domitius.

"You distracted me," I complained, unwrapping the strapping from my left wrist. It always played up in hand to hand combat.

Domitius grunted disapprovingly. "You _let_ me distract you. Don't let it happen again."

I didn't reply and stubbornly kept my gaze on the bandages as I unwound them but I knew he was right. And the satisfied grunt he gave told me he _knew_ I knew he was right.

"Get your jacket," he snapped suddenly. "We're going on a field trip." I looked up at him in surprise but I knew better than to question him, so I turned and marched towards the changing rooms. "And grab your bladebelt, obviously," he called after me, distracting a pair of fighters next to him who lost the rhythm of their fight.

"_Ob_viously," I muttered sarcastically under my breath but when I met him at the doors to the Centre I had my jacket zipped to my throat and my bladebelt slung over my shoulder. He gave me a disapproving scowl and I hurriedly clipped it around my hips, feeling the familiar tug of the knives weighing me down.

"They the only ones you got?" he demanded, flicking his eyes to my limbs.

With a sigh I unzipped my jacket and showed him the blades sheathed to my upper arms, wrist and around my chest. He nodded approvingly "That all of them?"

I thought of the blades strapped to my shins and gave him a bland smile. "Yep."

He narrowed his eyes but then gave a grim smile. "Good. You've learnt to lie. Never reveal all your weapons, Reyes. That's very important."

I nodded seriously. Every lesson that Domitius imparted on me I stored to memory. When it came to training and my chances of getting to the Hunger Games I was ready to be as obedient as I needed to be.

...

I didn't ask what our 'field trip' was going to consist of as he led me into the woods at the edge of town. If he had wanted me to know he would have told me already so I stayed silent and tried to be alert to every movement around me. For all I knew there was a gang of tributes waiting in the trees about to ambush me. My few months at the Centre had taught me to always be on my guard, even when I slept. I never assumed that a situation was as simple as it seemed and I always expected people to attack.

At the same time I was trying to map the terrain to my mind. I felt safer when we were at the top of the ridges and I could see the layout of the woods around us. Being in the valleys left me feeling claustrophobic. I was too aware that we were in a very vulnerable position from the ridges on either side.

One ridge and about twenty minutes of steep climbing after we passed the first stream I'd seen all day (and stored to memory as a potential water source) Domitius drew to a halt and turned to face me.

"Do you know what lives in these woods Reyes?" he asked simply, using my surname instead of the one Tass had given me, telling me that we were on official training business.

I glanced around at the trees. "Birds, squirrels...rats."

He nodded to each one. "What else?"

I tried to wrack my brains for what creatures I had seen in the woods surrounding our house. "Um...deer?"

"Correct," he said expressionlessly. Seemingly from thin air he pulled a blade and held it out to me in his palm. It was the one that I had picked out to throw on my very first day under his training. "You will take this knife and you will hunt down a deer and you will kill it. Then bring me the carcass."

Slowly I reached out and took the blade. It felt just as good in my hand as it had the first day, and this time I knew how to send it spinning through the air and hit a target with precision.

"Why do I have these?" I asked, indicating my bladebelt. It was weighing me down and I was growing frustrated with it already.

"There are other things in these woods Reyes," Domitius said, crossing his arms. "Bears, wild dogs...wolves. And you're not coming home until you have the dead body of a deer, so I expect you to be able to defend yourself."

I tried not to show the way my heart skipped a beat at his words. Careers didn't show fear but all through my childhood I had lain awake in bed at night and listened to the howl of wild dogs and wolves in the woods. Back then I used to bury my head under my covers and remind myself that there was a front door between me and them. But out here, alone in the woods, I couldn't give myself that same comfort. I looked down at the blade in my hand and reminded myself that these weapons were all the comfort I needed. Wasn't that the point? These dangerous little daggers were always going to be the only thing I could rely on to keep me alive.

As I slid the new blade into my belt Domitius nodded approval and began to walk away. Just as he was about to disappear over the ridge he paused and turned back to me.

"Good luck, Rabbit," he said, using the name Tass had given me for the first time since she had died.

...

When darkness had set in all I had encountered so far was three squirrels and a raccoon. One of those squirrels had been sacrificed to my frustration and suffered one of my small blades to his body.

I suppose at least no wildlife meant nothing that wanted to tear me limb from limb. But the howls that echoed around the hills made my skin crawl every time and no matter how much I told myself I wasn't scared, I was.

Apart from those eerie howls though, I found the woods oddly comforting. Perhaps it was meant to be difficult, being on your own and isolated in the woods without any support, but it wasn't really anything unusual for me. As always I felt better when I was alone. Loneliness meant safety, even out here in the dangerous woods. As I sat in a tree and watched the sun dip below the horizon I hoped that Amica wouldn't worry too much that I hadn't been around to pick up Clove. The idea of anyone actually worrying about me was strange but Amica always had been the closest thing I had to someone who would do those sorts of things.

It was purely instinct that made me climb the branches of the tall tree and tuck myself between one of the sturdy branches and the trunk. From up here I could see a good portion of the forest floor around me and it just felt automatically safer to be high.

There was no way I could fall asleep but as the hours of darkness stretched on I found myself drifting into periods of vagueness. I'm not sure what I thought of exactly but it was from one of these that a sharp scratching sound roused me. Snapping my focus back to the woods around me I looked immediately down to the ground, my fingers flying automatically to wrap around the smooth handle of the blade Domitius had given me.

My fingers loosened again though as I saw the outline of a wolf below me. Instead I moved to one of the larger knives in my belt. That other blade had been handed to me for a deer, and nothing else was going to get it. The sight of the wolf didn't fill me with as much fear as I would have thought. It was sniffing around the base of my tree, scrabbling at the roots to make the tapping noise I had heard. As far as I knew wolves couldn't climb trees so I was safe as long as I stayed up here.

I contemplated killing it, but I had no reason to yet and the smell of blood would undoubtedly lure other flesh eating creatures. Instead I found myself strangely admiring the creature as it loped around the clearing. There was something silkily elegant about the animal and when the clouds moved its silver fur almost shone in the moonlight. As I watched it I was suddenly reminded of the movements of someone else I knew. The wolf reminded me of the stealthy, silent way that I had watched Tacita stalk through her Arena. They both moved with a predatory grace that was simultaneously mesmerising and bone chilling.

I watched the animal in silent respect until it lifted its head and loped from the clearing. As I watched it disappear I realised my fear of it from when I had lain in bed as a little child wasn't there anymore. It was just a creature. It was beautiful and it was deadly but it was mortal. And I could kill mortal things.

By the time the sun was tinging the grey clouds orange I was climbing down from my tree and landing with a soft thump on the forest floor. I could see where the wolf's claws had scraped at the earth.

...

It wasn't until mid morning that I heard the pattering movement ahead of me that told me there was a creature nearby. It wasn't the heavy movement of a bear or a wolf and it was too big to be a squirrel. The next minute, when I had padded through the trees, I saw the clear outline of a dear ahead of me. The sight flooded me with a strange feeling of energy. My fingers twitched restlessly on the blades in my belt and I had to clamp my mouth shut to stop my excited breathing from giving me away.

As silently as I could, trying to emulate the movements of the wolf from last night, I crept through the tall birch trees surrounding the clearing where the deer was grazing, until I was looking at the deer side on. It was the only position from which I could hope to bring it down. It´s thick skull and heavy shoulder blades meant that any shot from the front wouldn´t do much more than nick the skin and send the deer skittering away from me. I had no idea how many deer were out here but considering this was the first I had seen in almost twenty four hours I wasn´t going to let it get away from me. I took a step forwards and froze as my boots landed on a twig that made a loud snapping noise. The deer froze as well for half a second before it would take off, but I only needed half a second. Without thinking I sent a blade flying towards his ribcage. As the knife sunk into the soft flesh of its chest I felt a strange prickle of bloodlust across my skin but I didn´t pause to contemplate it, I was already sending another blade towards the doomed creature. Both knives hit the deer in the chest but clearly I had missed the heart because the animal took off towards the trees. I darted after it. I wasn't too concerned because it was losing a lot of blood and already stumbling all over the place. I tracked it through the trees until I heard a loud thump and new the deer had lost its battle with flight. I crept into the clearing and saw it lying on its side. Its hide shivered and as I approached its head I saw its eyes were rolled pack to the whites and froth was forming around its mouth. I regarded it for a moment, wondering if I should be feeling some form of humanity towards the dying creature. I felt nothing. I watched each laboured breath with an almost sickening delight. The side of its fur was drenched in deep red blood and I walked lightly forward and with a sharp movement pulled both m knives from its side. They were slick with blood and the sharp, metallic scent of it filled my nostrils. I stared at the liquid that was now covering my fingers and felt a strange excitement. I´d seen blood before, my father had made me bleed more than enough times and there had been plenty of blood at the Centre, but something about holding the bloody weapon over the dying deer filled my veins with a surging adrenalin. It was intoxicating and I began to feel a little giddy.

I looked back down at the deer and saw that it had lost its battle. Its eyes and hide were still now. You could see in its eyes that life was no longer there. They were unseeing and glassy.

Deciding how to drag the deer back to Domitius was a bit of a challenge. The creature was almost as large as I was and after a short distance of trying to half carry, half drag it, I knew I wasn´t going to be able to make it the entire way. The small amount of effort had already soaked my clothes through with its blood but I didn´t feel any revulsion at it. A part of my brain wondered if that was strange, to be so unfeeling about death. But I dismissed it. I had done what I was supposed to do so it couldn´t be wrong.

Eventually I decided to make some crude form of a sleigh, tying together some sticks I had collected with the cord from my jacket. I hauled the deer onto it and began to slide it along the forest floor. It wasn´t perfect and by the time I reached the edge of town I was still exhausted and out of breath but it was easier than the alternative would have been.

As I approached the training centre where it stood on the edge of the woods I realised I didn´t actually know where Domitius wanted me to take the deer. Then a thought struck me and it caused me to break into a manic grin.

With a purposeful step I dragged my bounty through the doors of the training centre. At the entrance to the main room I lifted it from the sleigh. My muscles shook in protest but I gritted my teeth and walked into the room.

The deer's carcass landed on the floor at my feet with a loud thump and with a deep satisfaction I saw heads turn in my directions. One of those closest to me took a few steps towards me, her usually grumpy features even more irate than normal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Reyes?" Aemilia demanded in a dangerously quiet voice. She eyed the deer that was bleeding over the mats at my feet.

Without answering her I glanced around, looking for Domitius. My eyes found him regarding me with amusement from the sword rack and I lifted my eye brows in a silent question. "I killed it," I stated, pointing down at the dead creature. There was a rustle of whispers around the room as more and more students began to turn towards me. Almost all eyes were on me now and I felt a thrill at the thought. I tried to imagine how I looked to them all; streaked with drying blood, dirt, my hair a wild black tangle and I suspected a smirk of triumph on my face. Aemilia still seemed to be torn been utter confusion and fury.

"You did _what_?!" she asked in an icy voice.

"Didn't you hear her, Cassesso?" Domitius demanded suddenly, marching forwards to stand beside her. "She killed it!" he looked at me with a broad grin and I couldn't tell whether he was more pleased at the fact I had killed the deer or at the fact I had dumped its bleeding body at Aemilia´s feet. Her eyes bulged as she turned to him.

"She's twelve," she stated dumbly, waving a hand in my direction but otherwise ignoring me.

Domitius chuckled, still enjoying his game, and nodded. "Yep. She's twelve. So I believe that makes her the youngest one to bring me back a dead deer on her first trip."

I blinked at him in confusion but felt a small bubble of pride slowly growing.

Another trainer stepped forwards, a tall man with steel grey hair and flashing blue eyes. "Domitius there is a reason we do not send them out on their own for a kill until they're fifteen. There are wild animals out there." I looked from the man to Domitius to Aemilia, uncomprehending. I thought this was a routine test? Didn't everyone get sent out into the woods and ordered to bring back a dead deer?

Domitius appeared to ignore the man and looked at me. "Did you encounter any wild animals, Reyes?"

I was slowly growing more and more delighted, though I made sure to keep my face as blank as possible. I couldn't let any of them know that I was secretly so pleased to be receiving what I think was the first praise of my life. "Yes," I said innocently, blinking at them all. "There was a wolf."

One of the girls standing nearby uttered a little gasp of horror and Domitius clapped his hand loudly to his leg in delight. "A wolf! Wonderful!" he boomed.

I gave him a quick smile in response but quickly dropped my gaze demurely again as Aemilia's eyes swivelled back to me. She was so angry I thought perhaps she would have a heart attack. She fixed me with her gaze as the other trainer spoke, his eyes on me too though more mildly impressed than angry.

"What on earth possessed you to send her out there, Domitius?" he asked curiously. Just in time I looked up to see Domitius give me a proud smile.

"I knew she could handle it," he said simply, and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Apologies for a short one. Hope you like it though. Thanks for the reviews, it's appreciated beyond belief. -Lu**

Returning home that night I decided to go to my house and take off my blood soaked clothes before I went to Amica's house and picked up Clove. She'd probably stayed there all night so half an hour longer wasn't going to hurt. It was dark when I walked up the steps to the house but there was a light on inside. My stomach twisted at the thought that one or both of my parents were home.

When I opened the front door I left a bloody handprint on the wood.

It was my mother who stood in the kitchen. As I walked in she regarded me with a guarded expression, but her eyes flicked over me restlessly. I glanced down at my clothes and hands, blood covering my shirt and smeared up my arms and neck. How did I appear to her?

"Where have you been?" she said in a quiet voice, apparently ignoring my state.

"I was in the woods. Dom- the trainers wanted me to kill a deer." I corrected myself hurriedly but I still saw an almost imperceptible flinch from my mother. I hoped my father wasn't home. When she looked back at me her eyes were narrowed and for once she actually seemed to be focusing on me, me, not just as a thing standing in front of her.

"You killed a deer?" she asked in an even softer voice. It was almost like an exhale, as if she didn't have the energy to raise her voice any louder. I nodded, my eyes wide on her. "How old are you?" she asked hazily, frowning.

"Twelve, thirteen in two weeks," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat at the knowledge my own mother didn't know how old I was. She rested her eyes on me for a few silent moments and I stared openly back at her. At first I thought she might be angry, because I wasn't supposed to talk about training at home, but then her eyes began to glisten and to my horror I realised she was about to cry. I had never seen my mother cry before and the thought was almost painful, not because I cared for her but because crying was supposed to be weak and shameful. But then she seemed to get control of herself, and although her eyes continued to glisten no tears fell. She lifted herself up, straightening her back, and it was only then that I realised how small and slumped she had been.

Her eyes lost their focus on me again and she went back to staring at me as just a thing before her. "Don't get blood on anything," she said simply, turning away. At the door she paused and looked back at me. "Your sister is in the other room." With that she walked from the room and a moment later I heard the sound of her bedroom door shutting.

I stayed standing in the kitchen for a few moments, staring at the space where she had been, and leaning heavily against the counter. Now that I was home the last little piece of energy that I had summoned in my little display at the Centre had vanished, and my limbs were so tired I had trouble standing. My brain was too exhausted to try and figure out my encounter with my mother. I felt like there was something there, and if I was just a bit more alert I could see it. But eventually I gave up and shook myself awake, walking slowly into the other room.

Clove was sitting in the middle of the bare wooden floor and seemed to be tormenting a beetle. I watched her for a moment as she poked at it, letting it scuttle away for a short distance before she reached out and flipped it over. Its legs waved in panic in the air and its desperate attempts to try and turn itself over seemed to provide her with great entertainment. I wondered how long she had been playing this game. She giggled manically at the beetle and then suddenly looked up, her eyes lighting up as she saw me.

"Ena!" she cried happily, scrambling to her feet and dashing unsteadily towards me. She'd turned four last week and Cato and his brothers had convinced her that now she was a grown up. I gave her a tired smile and bent down to pick her up, momentarily forgetting about the blood covering me. Clove was pretty much the only person who could get a smile from me anymore.

"Whoops," I muttered as I lifted her onto my hip and realised too late that it was going to get blood on her too. She didn't seem to mind though. Her eyes widened and she ran them over my clothes, reaching out to touch my neck. One of her fingers came away with blood and she pulled it towards her, studying it intently.

"You okay Ena?" she asked eventually, looking back at me with worried big eyes. She'd seen me bleeding enough times probably to know what blood usually meant. For once though I didn't have to lie and tell her I fell. I didn't have to hide the truth from her. I gave her another smile, shaking my head.

"Not mine, Clover," I reassured her. "I killed a deer today."

Her eyes widened even more. "A deer?" she breathed, leaning forwards and placing her hands against my shoulders. She seemed mesmerised by the blood on my skin.

"And guess what?" I said, walking over to the battered old armchair and falling into it, with her sitting on my lap. "I saw a wolf!"

She let out a soft exhale of awe and wriggled herself into a better position. "Did you kill it too?" she asked, resting her head against my shoulder.

I thought about the wolf and how beautiful it had seemed and how it had reminded me of Tacita. "No," I said, resting my chin on the top of her head. I yawned and felt myself beginning to lose the will to get up again. "I didn't kill the wolf."

Forgetting completely about the blood covering my clothes, and now covering a fair part of Clove as well, I closed my eyes and drifted. Distantly I felt Clove wriggle against me, fidgeting into a better position, and I instinctively moved my arm to cradle her.

When my mother's bedroom door eased open I was already asleep, so I wasn't aware of her as she walked softly down the hallway and stood in the doorway staring at Clove and I asleep in the chair, covered in the blood of my first kill.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Some relationship development for you in this chapter as well as a few other little things. At the moment we're still constructing Enobaria and Clove and their relationship and soon we'll be getting into the main events. Thanks for all the views and reviews, dears. -Lu**

**PS. For those curious about the relationship and secrets surrounding Enobaria's parents, all will be revealed eventually and what isn't has been deliberately left up to your imagination.**

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"Clove, you lazy lump, get out of bed now!" I demanded, storming into my bedroom and glaring at her. All I could see was the top of her dark head poking out from under the covers of my bed. At fifteen, and after almost three years of training, I no longer found it difficult to get up early. In fact, I found it impossible to stay asleep after the sun was up. And the run I took through the woods every morning and evening felt as natural to me as breathing. Clove didn't share my energy yet though.

Today she had to get out of bed though. It was her first day of junior training, the six years old initiation class, and I was damned if she was going to be late. She had my reputation to live up to by now. So I marched forward and dragged the covers from the bed, Clove and all, and deposited her with a thump and a disgruntled yelp onto the floor at the base of the bed. With a few curse words I'm sure we had Cato to thank for she battled her way out of the tangle of blankets and sat there, hair like a bird's nest and glaring daggers at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I spat, storming passed her and rummaging in the tiny chest where we kept our clothes. As soon as she had outgrown her child's crib Clove had simply moved into my room and my bed. My room was the size of a closet but there wasn't anywhere else for Clove to sleep, unless she wanted to set up camp in the lounge room. The fact that my father would frequently storm home at all hours, and that my bedroom had a lock on the door, meant we both knew which option she would choose. Pulling out a black long sleeved shirt I threw it at her, ignoring her huff as it hit her in the face. "Get dressed, get down stairs, we are leaving in fifteen minutes." In the doorway I rounded on her. "And don't even _think_ about going back to bed."

As I pattered down the stairs I rolled my eyes at the string of words I heard thrown at my departing back. Six years old and she was already using swear words _I _didn't even know.

* * *

We walked in silence through the streets of town. They were still quiet. It was only people opening their shops and students going to the Centre up at this hour. We didn't even see a single Peacekeeper which was unusual. Normally too, any journey would have been broken by Clove's questions and statements. She'd never exactly been a chatty child, in fact around others she barely spoke at all, but she seemed to have an endless list of questions for me. This morning all that I could hear was the clip of her shoes on the asphalt and the gentle rhythmic thump of her bag against her side.

"You okay, Clo?" I asked eventually, as we rounded a corner and the junior centre appeared in the distance. I kept my eyes front but I saw out of the corner of my eye that Clove glanced at me then quickly glanced away.

"Uh huh." Clove suffered from the same sin I did; pride. She would rather die than admit that she was scared but I knew from her silence and the way she kept tugging the zip of her jacket up and down that she was nervous. God knows what terrifying stories Cato and his brothers had told her about junior training. A few blocks from the centre I stopped walking and pulled her to a halt too. She looked up at me biting her lip and I knew she was worried I thought her weak.

"How many people do you know who have gone to junior training, Clove?" I asked, tilting my head to the side questioningly.

Clove's dark eyes danced around as she thought of a list. "Cato, Aron, Pax, Taras..." she listed off Amica's boys, the only other children she had ever really encountered.

I nodded then gave her a questioning look. "And?"

Her eyes settled on me and she stopped fidgeting. "You?" she said so soft I could barely hear her.

"Exactly." I nodded. "And nothing terrible has happened to any of us in there has it? I'm still here to drag you out of bed every morning." I was rewarded with the smallest of smiles. Clove was about as prone to smiles as I was. "You'll be fine, midget," I said teasingly and she scowled at me. That gave me much more encouragement than the smile. "You'll be fine in there and in six years if you want you can go onto Senior Training just like I did."

She nodded determinedly. "I will. I'm going to volunteer just like you will Ena." I rested my eyes on her for a moment, not so quick to share her enthusiasm. It was one thing me going into the Arena but Clove was another. I wasn't sure I wanted to watch her on the screens with my heart pounding in my chest like I had watched Tass. I didn't affirm or deny her statement, just gave her ponytail a gentle tug and started walking again.

* * *

I arrived at the Centre late that day but I wasn't the only one. No one seemed to mind either. As I walked through the doors and headed towards the rooms that Domitius used to train us, Junia fell into step beside me.

"Saw you at the Junior Centre this morning," she said without looking at me. Junia wasn't the kind of girl to bother with hellos. She tended to get right to the point. I didn't look at her either. I had noticed her with her mother, dropping off her six year old brother who shared Junia's silky auburn hair and pearly skin. But when I had said goodbye to Clove I had been determined to avoid as many people as I could. Every other child there was dropped off by at least one parents, most two. I didn't want to be the one everyone stared at and pitied because a fifteen year old was the only person willing to see the six year old off on her first day of school. Clove seemed to understand this and at the gates had turned around and given me a quick hug around the waist before darting away. She had disappeared before I had been able to wrap my arms around her and I was left standing with an armful of air where I wished my sister still was. "Was that your sister?" Junia continued as we shoved passed a group of Aemilia's students.

I ignored the jostles they gave me and the insults hurled at our backs as we pushed through the doors to the smaller training rooms. "Yeah, my sister," I said curtly.

We walked in silence into the training room, shaking off our jackets and preparing to warm up. We could see that Manius was already warmed up and busy running an obstacle course with a few of the other students swinging rubber bats at him. He was the youngest of three sisters and two brothers so he'd had no one to wave off this morning. As he reached the end of his course he turned around and spotted Junia and I. He gave a too casual wave and with surprise I noticed that Junia blushed. I looked at her, my mouth hanging open.

"Are you two...?" I trailed off, not even sure what I was asking. Romance was the last thing on my mind in the training centre. I couldn't even seem to manage friendship. I couldn't even contemplate anything more. But then Junia and Manius had been together in Domitius' small training group since before I arrived. Junia shook her head, glaring down the room at the boy who was turning to run the course again.

"Who knows what we are," she said, completely not answering my question. As if to distract me from further interrogations she flopped down on the ground and stretched out a leg to begin stretching. As she did she looked at me, flicking her perfect hair out of her eyes.

"If your sister turns out as fierce as you then Panem help us all," she said with a teasing grin, but I knew her words weren't joking. I gave a half hearted laugh and turned away but I couldn't shake the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I imagined Clove living the life I led.

* * *

Knowing that Clove would probably walk home from training with Cato and possibly the other boys I stayed later that normal at the Centre that night. I liked it when the small training rooms were silent except for the sound of my own heavy breathing and the satisfying thock of each of my knives as they hit the target. When it became difficult for me to clearly see the target at the far end of the room I glanced up at the skylight to see that night had crept up on me. My limbs were dancing with the joy of movement. Once I stopped, and began to pack up my knives and other equipment, the thin layer of sweat on my body cooled and made me shiver. I shrugged into my jacket, pulling it over the simple tunic and leggings of the fitted black training outfit we wore but leaving it unzipped.

The rooms around me were in darkness as I padded silently through the Centre, heading for the main room. It was nice when it was so quiet, I should train late more often. The stillness around me went back to my mentality as a child that if the house was silent it meant I was alone and therefore safe. That had changed dramatically when Clove had come along, because the house had never been quiet once it had a baby in it. In fact, now, if she was quiet when I walked in it was probably a sure sign my parents _were_ home.

I was tangled up in my own thoughts of our family as I walked into the main training room and so I didn't even notice the group of boys lounging by the door until I heard a shout. My head flicked up and instantly I knew that I was in trouble. A group of seven or so boys from Aemilia's class were hanging around the door, some of them now walking towards me with interest. My heart sinking I picked Ronan from the front of the group, his grey eyes gleaming bright at the sight of me. I was hopelessly outnumbered and they were all strong fighters. My body still remembered the punishment it had received from Ronan on my very first day of training, and it had no desire to feel it repeated. I ducked my head and tried to walk purposefully towards the door. I pretended as if I hadn't noticed them but every nerve in my body was tuned to their slightest movement, and ready to react if they came at me. There was no way they were simply going to let me slip away.

"Well if it isn't the little midget," I heard Ronan call and there was a series of laughs from the others. Knowing I wasn't going to slip away unnoticed I lifted my head and saw with horror that they had fanned out around me, trapping me in a half circle. I stopped moving and watched them warily, rising lightly on my feet so I was ready to run. Ronan grinned and lunged at me. I darted around him, not wasting time on delivering him a blow, and tried to head for the door. There was a hand on the back of my collar and suddenly I was yanked sharply backwards, kicking and screaming at them. They only laughed as I tried to twist around and strike out at whoever had me. They were all much bigger than I was and my struggles barely even seemed to make a difference. The person dragged me backwards and I felt someone grasp my wrist in a grip so tight I was worried he'd break the bones. He twisted my arms around behind me so that I couldn't move. It hurt like hell but I refused to give any of them the satisfaction of knowing. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out and tasted the salty, metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Next second Ronan appeared before me, grinning like a stupid Cheshire cat, and studying me critically. "Think you're so special, don't you? Getting special training from the monster?" He stepped in towards me and with a sickening drop of my stomach I felt his hand gripping at my waist. "Well, I bet I can guess what type of training he gives you," he said, flashing a grin around at the other boys who all laughed.

I twisted myself uselessly against the arms that trapped me, feeling the body behind me like a solid wall of rock. Rage made my skin rush hot and before I could think about the consequences I had spat in Ronan's face. He bellowed and swiped at his face, lifting his arm at the same time. There was a stunning blow to the side of my head followed by a sharp pain and I gasped, looking down at the ground as I tried to clear the spots from my vision. He was screaming something at me but my head was ringing with the hit and all I could see was his mouth moving, his face turning red with rage. Despite the pain in my skull and arms I gave him a smile, which to my delight only made him angrier. Then his words began to seep back into my mind and my blood ran cold. He leant up to me, pressing me against the boy who held me, and the next second I felt cold fingers groping at the bare skin of my stomach. I screamed and tried to kick out at him but I was wedged between the two stronger boys. His hand crept up my body under my tunic and I felt like I was going to be sick. The sensation of his hands touching me, stroking, groping, made my head spin.

Then almost as suddenly he had pulled away and my head flicked around at the sound which had made him stop. Through the crowded boys, who were hurriedly stepping back, I made out the towering figure of Domitius storming towards us. He gave an angry shout and I felt the hands around my arms loosen slightly. It was all I needed and I twisted, kicking out at the same time, so that I drove my knee into the body that had trapped me. I dropped to the ground and stumbled into a run, heading for the doors. A hand grabbed at me as I went but I dodged it, focusing my eyes on the door ahead and letting my legs, which had moments ago been frozen with terror, pump away as fast as they could. There was more shouting behind me but I didn't stop. Humiliation and anger were equally burning in my cheeks as I threw myself out the front doors of the Centre and sprinted into the woods nearby. I didn't slow till I could no longer make out the shaped of buildings through the trees, and then I threw myself to the ground, retching against the base of an old tree. When my body had decided to give up on me I rolled over and sat clutching my knees to me on the forest floor. I was trembling hard and every noise around me had me jumping, frantically scanning the forest in case they had followed me. I tried to block the feeling of Ronan's hands on me from my mind but it kept coming back, making me shudder each time. Never again was someone going to touch me like that. I would rather die.

Darkness had completely set in around me by the time I managed to get my thoughts functioning enough to stand. My legs shook but I told myself firmly to get a grip and found that I could walk. The thought of walking out of the trees again, so exposed, terrified me, so I skirted the edge of town, keeping well within the darkness of the forest. I'd rather encounter a wild animal that have them find me again on the deserted streets of town. I didn't know what had happened behind me as I left but either way I had a feeling it was only going to create me enemies. I couldn't contemplate seeing Domitius tomorrow, having him look at me _knowing_. I blocked the thought completely from my mind as I saw our house ahead of me.

By the time I walked up to the front door of our house I was muddied and scratched and bleeding from the bushes and trees. The side of my head where Ronan had struck me was tender but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I slipped silently through the front door and moved straight up to my room, hoping my parents wouldn't decide this was a day they wanted to interrogate me.

When I turned and slid the lock of my bedroom door I was met with Clove's surprised face, standing by the dresser in our room. Her eyes flicked up and down me and a frown appeared on her forehead. "What did you _do_?" she asked, clearly shocked. I looked down at myself and saw the scratches on my arm where a reaching branch had torn through my jacket and the dirt from a fall covering my knees. I gave her a forced casual shrug and walked over to the bowl of water on the dressed. I splashed my face before answering her, feeling the cold water clear my head a little. With a sigh I folded to the side of the bed. She was still standing staring at me, the top she had been folding frozen in her hands. I pointed to it.

"Don't put that away, you'll need it tomorrow." She raised her eyebrows demandingly and I sighed again. "I just got in a fight at training, that's all," I said, trying to sound reassuring. I hoped the memory of feeling powerlessly pinned by the boys didn't show on my face as I stared her down. If it did she decided to leave it because she chucked the top on top of the dresser and came towards me.

"You were right, you know?" she said, taking a seat next to me. I looked down at her, confused. "About training?" she clarified. She gave a small, cold smile that was a tiny bit disturbing. "It was fun."


	10. Interlude 1: Cassandra and Domitius

**INERLUDE NUMBER 1: CASSANDRA AND DOMITIUS**

* * *

**A/N: I changed my mind, inspired by people's desire for more backstory so I've decided instead of putting these one shots at the end of the story I'll scatter them through as interludes to Enobaria's story.**

* * *

**When: **Two weeks before the 49th Hunger Games**  
**

**Where: **District 2 Training Centre

* * *

"Give it back!" Cassandra exclaimed indignantly, lunging for the knife. Domitius was taller though and he easily held it out of her reach, laughing down at her.

"Why don't you make me?" he teased, spinning the blade in his hand. Cassandra glared at him, then, in an instant launched herself on him, bringing them both to the ground with a loud thud. Surprised by her brazen attack Domitius struggled for a moment, only just managing to keep a grip on the knife, but soon enough gained the upper hand and pinned her beneath him. Panting for breath they glared at each other, then Domitius grinned. "Nice try, little Cass."

She growled playfully at him and kicked out, struggling beneath his weight though it was useless. Not only was he a year old than her but she was notably small for her age, and he had the advantage of being a the district's most recent, formidable victor while she was still just a student. Confirmed volunteer for that year yes, but not yet matching his victory.

He watched her struggle with an amused expression and patiently waited for her to give up. When she did she glared ferociously at him and hissed, causing him to laugh. "What are you going to do Dom? Kill me?" As soon as the words left her mouth she paled, and wished she could take them back.

His whole body tensed and then in an instant he had rolled off her, sending himself a few feet away for good measure. His expression was dark and he didn't look at her as he shook his head. "Cass you know I'd n-"

She cut him off, sitting up and crawling to her knees in front of him, ducking her head to try and make him look at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. It was stupid."

He shook his head again gruffly and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead briefly. He wanted to try and stop the flashes that were firing in his brain but he knew they wouldn't be halted that easily. Cassandra edged closer towards him hesitantly, like you would for a wild animal, and reached out, touching his arm. "It's okay Dom. It was the Arena. It's a case of survival, what you did in there...it's not who you are."

The sound of her voice helped more than the logical words. He knew she was right, she was always right, but it didn't stop the guilt seeping in sometimes. So many children. They'd had six 12 year olds his year and somehow his Victory just didn't feel victorious when it had been gained by slaughtering completely helpless children. There was no honour in that.

He tried to push the thoughts away and finally looked up, meeting her glittering black eyes. He loved those eyes, they held so much spirit. Realising that the playful mood had been completely destroyed he tried to give a wan smile and lighten his tone. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not Aeron. He can't seem to leave his Victory in the Capitol, can he? I swear if I hear that pig headed, arrogant smug telling me about his kills one more time..." he left the sentence hanging as he watched Cassandra's eyes drop. "What is it Cass?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, brushing his outreached hand aside. She reached over and picked up the knife that they had both discarded, running her fingers absent-mindedly along the blade. Its flawless surface calmed her.

"Cass," he said in a warning voice. He could read her like a book, they both knew that. It had been six years since Cassandra had joined the Training Centre, six years since Domitius had first laid eyes on her and they'd been inseparable friends almost from that moment. He'd made sure of it. Just as he knew there was something she wasn't telling him, she knew he wouldn't take no for an answer, so she shrugged her shoulders moodily and kept her eyes on the blade in her hands.

"My father has promised my hand to Aeron after I win the Games. It's all arranged and there's nothing I can do about it...except die, of course." Her attempt at lightening the statement failed miserably and they both fell into a dark silence. She waited nervously, knowing how angry Domitius would be. He hated her father and the way he tried to use his children for pawns. Wedding his only daughter to one of the District's most famous and powerful, but notoriously unstable, Victor's was only the latest plan in his bid to gain control of everything. He wouldn't care that Cass would be forced into a marriage with a man famous for his violence and his cruelty, both in and out of the Arena. All he would care about was that the match would bring him one step closer to power, whatever that entailed. She was surprised when Domitius spoke, expecting fury and shouting. Instead his voice was scarily quiet.

"You can't do it Cass. We'll find a way out of it, I promise. You can't marry him. He's-" Neither of them needed him to finish the sentence. She knew exactly what Aeron was and what a life with him would mean. She'd been worrying over it for weeks now, since her father told her, and her times with Domitius were the only occasions she got to escape that. She knew that nothing could be done to change her father's plans once they were made. The only way out was if she died in that Arena, and no matter what the consequences her survival instinct was too strong for her to let that happen. She also knew that Domitius was just as strong and stubborn as her father, and that he would take the powerful man on if she gave him the chance. She couldn't let that happen. It would be as good as a death warrant for Domitius, and she would not let him put himself in danger for her. So she pulled on an indifferent smile and gave another shrug, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm sure he'll change his mind. You know how often my father's plans change. Besides, I've got to get through the Games first, and that means only one thing," she said brightly, pouncing on him suddenly and pinning him to the ground with the blade pressed neatly to his throat. "Practice, practice, practice," she recited, forcing a smile.


	11. Chapter 11

The build up to the 65th Hunger Games seemed to make my father even more furious than normal. That year the door to our house slammed so many times in the weeks prior to the games that I was sure the walls would begin to crumble. It still filled me with a sick feeling of dread every time I heard his footsteps on the doorstep. Over the years I had learnt how to avoid situations that resulted in beatings, but now that Clove was old enough to walk into trouble I had her to protect as well. She understood far too much about my father's behaviour for a six year old, but she still managed to unknowingly get herself into dangerous situations sometimes. The first time I had come home from training and walked into the kitchen just in time to see him hit her I had been taken over by a rage I didn't even know I possessed.

When I was fighting or being tormented by one of the older students I got angry, but this was blinding rage that had me throwing myself at him before I could even consider the consequences.

The consequences that time had been a mild concussion and a string of fresh bruises around my collarbone that matched his fingerprints perfectly. I hadn't minded though because I had been distracted by my delight that I had been able to land three severe jabs to his ribcage. He had doubled up, gasping for air, as I had darted away, light on my feet as ever, and had yanked Clove out of the room, uncaring if I scared her. I had dragged her up the stairs and locked us both in our bedroom. At the sound of the bolt sliding into place I had slid down the door. My entire body had been shaking. I wasn't even sure whether it had been fear or adrenalin or some heady combination of both. Whatever it was I had pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my head in my hands, concentrating on the darkness of my closed eyelids and the sounds of my breath rasping in and out of my bruised throat until I regained control of my pounding heart.

The entire time Clove had crouched silently on the floor, watching me closely. When I had finally looked up I had been met with her anxious black eyes and I had forced myself to give her a reassuring smile.

"You okay, Clove?" I had asked, reaching forwards and running my thumb over her cheek where he had hit her. She had nodded her head quickly but I could see she was still terrified. I wished I could tell her that age and training would make her less scared of him but that would be a lie. I could kill a person where they stood and I was nearly as tall as my mother now, but even the mere thought of my father still managed to send an icy chill through my body.

Involuntarily we had both flinched as we heard my father begin to shout again from down stairs. Just like always Clove had leapt forwards and I had reached for her, pulling her up to me as we sat against the door. We were always safe in that room. We heard the occasional softer voice of my mother in between his shouts and we knew his rage was now directed at her. Clove buried her head in my hair and I thought about how stupid our family was. I should care that my mother was getting screamed at downstairs and she should care that he had hit Clove. But instead we were up here and I didn't give a damn about my mother. She had never once come to my aid- that I was indifferent to- but she had never once come to Clove's either, and that was unforgivable.

Eventually the shouting had stopped, it always did, and I had waited for the sounds of two doors closing. First would come the front door as my father stormed out, shaking the walls as he went. Panem knows where he went. The second, quieter door would signal my mother retreating into her bedroom where she would stay in complete darkness and silence for the rest of the night.

Even though I knew neither of them would return any time soon Clove and I always stayed where we were. We would skip dinner that night and instead we would drag the covers of the bed into a nest. In a small voice floating in the darkness Clove would tell me all the things she had learnt at school and at training and then I would tell her the, in her opinion, much more exciting stories of my training. Her favourites were anything to do with knives and killing things.

* * *

The 65th Hunger Games lasted only five days. Always now I watched the Games from the Training Centre. That year I stood the room filled with sombre students and trainers as both our tributes were killed on the second last day, when there were still half a dozen left. I hadn't known either of the tributes this year. One of them was one of Aemilia's older students and the other belonged to the steel grey haired man I'd seen on the day I killed my deer. There were a lot of mutterings among the trainers as they turned away from the screen where the girl lay with her throat slit and her eyes staring wide at nothing, and the boy was slumped on the ground, his face unseen but clearly dead. It was a sign of my three years here that I too looked away from the screen without a second thought for the dead boy and girl who had last week been training in here with me.

Instead my first thought was for how painful our punishment was going to be. Because the trainers would see such a shameful Games as a sign that they weren't pushing us hard enough. Training would be increased both in time and difficulty and I knew from the steely look in Aemilia's eye that it was going to be painful for all of us.

They were forced to keep the Games playing until the end, until a handsome and incredibly young boy from District 4 stabbed the last tribute with his trident and won himself glory. But the second that it was legal the screens went black and everyone began to move. With surprise I watched students and trainers alike start to head towards the doors.

"No more training for today?" Junia asked, appearing beside me.

"Guess not," I muttered, following the crowd.

She shrugged and glanced across the room and, I suspected, looked towards Manius. "Oh well I suppose we should enjoy it for one evening. I'm sure tomorrow will be hell." Then without another word she was gone, slipping through the people towards Manius who was waiting with crossed arms for her at the doors.

"Yeah, enjoy it," I muttered, putting my head down and trudging through the crowds.

* * *

Early dusk was creeping in as I walked the deserted streets home. It was mid-summer but these last few days you could hardly tell. Low grey clouds boiled above us and blocked out what meagre sun we had, making darkness come early enough to feel like winter. As I walked passed Amica's house something in the black forest rustled and there was the sound of movement. Immediately my mind was filled with images of the silver wolves and pitch black bears, and my hand shot to my belt, where I always carried a knife now. It was the simple handled blade I had chosen on my first day and had killed the deer with. After I had dumped the carcass at Aemilia's feet Domitius had handed me the blade and told me to keep it, as a token of my first kill. Now the blade always lived tucked into a hidden sheath on my belt. Only Domitius and Clove knew I carried it with me everywhere and feeling it bump against my leg every time I walked always gave me comfort.

It gave me strength now as I wrapped my fingers around the handle and stared into the dark woods. The rustling came again and I prepared both for flight and attack, whatever was necessary. But as I stood poised the rustling moved further away from me and eventually I forced my legs to start walking again, slipping quickly the short distance to our house.

I heard a high pitched cry as I walked up the steps and it had been cut off by the time my hurried footsteps had me pushing through the door. I froze in the doorway as I frantically looked around the rooms for Clove. I had identified it as her cry instantly and I was already cursing myself for dawdling home. If she was in trouble and I had been dragging my feet I'd never forgive myself.

I followed the sounds of shouting to the kitchen and burst in, spotting my father pinning Clove to the wall by her throat.

"Get off her!" I bellowed as I sprang forwards, launching myself on my father's back and digging my nails into his skin. He bellowed and reeled backwards, releasing Clove and crushing me against the counter. I barely noticed the pain as I tried to scramble to my feet before he could figure out what had happened. He was slower than me but he was much bigger than even the biggest boys at the Centre and he was probably just as strong. After all, once upon a time he had walked out of the Arena a Victor.

I knew he was shouting things at both of us but I tuned them out, too focused on making sure Clove was alright and staying out of his grasp. He grabbed for me but I slipped passed him and threw myself at Clove. She was gasping for air hysterically but otherwise she seemed unhurt. I grabbed her probably too roughly by the arm and began to push her towards the doorway. I just wanted her to get out of the way, go upstairs and lock herself in our room but she was resisting me, shouting something at me too and she wouldn't let go of my arm.

"Please," I begged her and then was forced to duck quickly and shove her to the side as my father swung at me. I was on the defensive, just as I used to be when I was an unskilled twelve year old. I had no desire to take my father down, I didn't even dream that I could. I just wanted to get away enough to get us both upstairs. Once we were out of sight he wouldn't be bothered anymore. He was just looking for something to vent on and we were here, easy targets.

My next duck wasn't quite quick enough and he caught me to the side of the head, pushing me roughly against the wall and shouting into my face. His fingers were gripping tightly around the collar of my jacket and my feet were kicking out at him uselessly, a few inches from the ground. I tried to hit out at him but he ducked his head to the side and sneered at me.

"Is that all you've got? Pathetic. Useless. The pair of you. I'd have been better off drowning you both at birth than raising two useless daughters. What sort of honour are you ever going to bring me?"

The idea that he possibly thought he had raised us would have brought a bitter laugh to my throat if I had been able to breathe at all. I thought about just giving up fighting him and waiting for him to get bored, but then from somewhere behind him I heard Clove's angry little voice. Suddenly my father jerked and dropped me like a sack of flour. It took me a few seconds of gasping for breath and scrabbling at my throat for me to realise what she'd done. Little Clove, little six year old Clove, had run forward and kicked my father in the shins, demanding that he let me go. If the sight of him turning on her and bearing down upon her hadn't filled me with bone chilling dread I would have been beyond proud of her.

Instead the only thing I seemed able to see was her scared eyes fixed on him as she cowered backwards. Like me she hadn't thought about the consequences of attacking him in defence of her sister. I did it again, overtaken with blind rage and fear, I attacked him without thinking. And without thinking my fingers found the smooth handle of my knife and drew it. Without thinking I threw myself at him from behind and reached for his neck. Without thinking I drew the blade across his throat, as that very day I had watched a tribute do in the Arena.

It wasn't until his body was crumpling to the ground on the floor between Clove and I that I realised that I had done. I stared at the bloody knife in my hand and felt nothing. He was coughing, choking on his own blood. It was bubbling from his lips as she vainly scrabbled at his throat. Clove and I stood and watched him die, both of us as expressionless as the other.

Perhaps there was something very wrong with us indeed.

Eventually the choking noises stopped and his hands dropped to the ground. I knew the exact moment the life faded from his eyes. Just as with the deer you could tell instantly that he was dead.

I still felt nothing.

I stared at the blood pooling across the floor until a soft noise made me look up at Clove. She was white as anything and seemed as transfixed by the blood as I was.

"Are you alright?" I gasped, my voice hoarse from the bruises of my father's fingers. She nodded numbly and then looked up at me and I saw that her eyes were gleaming manically. Did I look like that too? I saw reflected in her eyes the way I had felt when I had first killed the deer. But this wasn't a deer. This was a human. This was my father.

And yet I felt nothing. Not even the energising adrenalin of when I had killed the animal. I almost wished I felt that, even though it would be terribly wrong surely.

"Come here," I said simply, holding out the hand to Clove that didn't hold the knife. My fingers refused to let go of it for some reason. She stepped delicately to me through the pooling and splattered blood and I tugged her from the room. She seemed somewhat reluctant and kept throwing glances over her shoulder at the body lying in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Without even knowing why I dragged her towards Amica's house. It was the only place I could think of that we could go. I had no idea where my mother was. Surely if she were in the house she would have emerged with all the shouting? But then again, when she was locked in the dark of her room she never seemed to be reachable by anything. But a part of my brain was working hard, worrying about what was going to happen. I had killed someone. Even in District 2 murder didn't go unpunished. I could only hope that I could claim self defence, or Clove defence anyway. Ironically, the knowledge that the entire town had of my father's temperament- that knowledge I had been ashamed of all these years- might just be enough to save me.

* * *

I didn't even want to know what went through Amica's mind when she opened the door to find Clove and I on her doorstep, faces pale and clothes and hands bloodied and me with a gleaming, bloodied knife still clutched in my hand. With the calmness and strength that I always associated with Amica she reached forward and pulled us wordlessly into the house. Not until she had planted us firmly in her kitchen, ordered her boys to bring towels and bandages, was I able to speak.

"We're not hurt," I clarified, looking across at Clove. It suddenly struck me that I didn't know whether she was hurt or not. It had been too chaotic for me to actually check. "At least I'm not," I amended. Clove shook her head determinedly and glanced at the knife in my hand. I really only realised I still held it then and forcing my fingers to release it I gently placed it on the table.

Amica was studying us closely with a frown on her face. I wondered how much she guessed of what had happened because she didn't seem at all surprised, or alarmed passed our own condition.

I looked passed her to where her boys were crowded in the doorway, staring at us silently with huge eyes. I had never seen them look so frightened before. Did we really look that bad? Only Cato it seemed had the courage to come towards us. He walked up to Clove and stood next to her where she sat on a dining chair. He leant into her, apparently unperturbed by the blood on her clothes. He reached out a hand and ran a finger along her arm, wiping a smear of blood along her skin. I wanted to tell him to stop but I didn't seem to have the energy to find my voice. There was something about the way his eyes were gleaming as he inspected the blood on his fingertips that made my stomach twist in knots. I recognised the manic look that I had seen in Clove's eyes as she watched our father die. It was a look that in an eight year old boy and a six year old girl was deeply disturbing.

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**A/N: Hope everyone realised that the boy with the trident was Finnick. You'll be seeing more of Finnick in part 2. :)**

**Thanks for everyone who has reviewed, especially those who take the time to give me feedback on each chapter. It is so so so appreciated and useful so please keep it up.**


	12. Chapter 12

I didn't get any sleep that night but at 5am I was walking through the doors of the Centre just as I did every other morning. I had left Clove asleep in Cato's bed, the two of them buried in a heap of skinny limbs and blankets. Amica didn't have any spare beds, and while it was fine for Clove to climb in with one of the boys, I didn't have the same opportunity. Not that I'd taken it even if I had. There was no way that sleep would have found me. After the crowd of people left Amica's kitchen, the ones who asked me relentless questions that they either knew the answers to or knew I couldn't answer, I had sat and stared at the wall. Sometime after midnight Clove had fallen asleep at the table, her head resting on her still blood smeared arms, and Amica had carried her upstairs. By the time she returned I had left, the front door swinging open behind me. I couldn't be there and I knew Clove was in good hands. Better hands than she was with me.

I walked over to our house. It was all dark and silent now and somehow managed to look even more old and crumbling than it normally did. Did houses have soul? Did they begin to collapse if they lost their owner?

I still didn't know where my mother was. None of the people who had come to Amica's house had told me and I hadn't even thought to ask.

I pushed the front door open and walked warily into the kitchen. His body was gone but no one had cleaned up the blood. We had Peacekeepers in District 2, not police. I'd heard people talk about how it was in the Capitol when a crime was committed. There would be proper questioning and investigation. They had all these magic things that they'd use to figure out what happened and who did it. None of that happened here.

Normally if someone committed a crime they would be charged, sentenced and punished all by the Peacekeeper who had caught them with the bread in their hands and it would happen in all of half an hour. Whipping was the most common thing to see in the Square. But even those I'd only ever seen a few in my life. There was such a military presence here that you had to be _really_ desperate to commit a crime.

I'd never heard of anyone committing a murder before. I'm sure it happened, but I didn't exactly mingle with the townsfolk so I tended to miss the gossip. So I had no idea what they'd do with me, if anything. Amica had been reassuring me that they'd understand, all without actually saying what it was they'd understand. But the words were there hanging invisible and heavy between us. _They'll understand you were protecting yourself. They'll understand because everyone knows he hit you._

I couldn't even be bitter about that now. It was perhaps the only thing saving me from whatever horrible punishment faced murderers. But it still made my skin crawl with shame to think that people knew, and that they whispered about us. _Aeron Reyes' girls, you know the ones..._

Unable to bear the sight of the blood across the floor any longer I walked silently to the cupboard and dragged out a bucket and some old rags. The most disgusting thing was that the blood formed an eerie silhouette of his head and shoulders on the ground, like a chalk drawing of a child. Stubbornly, ignoring the aches and pains in my body, I got down on the ground and began to clean away the blood. It was slow work but I barely noticed. Something about the mechanical slop of water and wring of the cloth let my mind go numb. By the time the sun was peeking over the trees the floor was as clean as it had been before. You couldn't even tell that I'd killed someone.

Maybe if I stared at it long enough I forget.

But a part of me didn't want to forget. I'd killed a human. It didn't really matter whether it was my father or not, it was a human.

And it hadn't been as hard as I thought it would be. For years now I had been contemplating what it would be like. Ever since I'd watched Tacita kill her half a dozen tributes in her Games I'd wondered what it actually felt like to sink that blade into their chest, or drag it across their throats. The deer had answered my questions a little, but it wasn't anything like this.

As I climbed the stairs and robotically pulled out clothes and brushed my hair into a fierce ponytail, just as I did every other morning, I came to a realisation. I could do it. I could go into the Games and I could kill people. I'd done it already, done it to someone I shouldn't want to kill, and I didn't even mind. I had no idea whether that was normal or not but it didn't matter. If I was being trained for a career of killing then I suddenly knew that I could fulfil that role.

In a way my father had helped me in his death a million times more than he ever had in his life. At least now I knew that I could kill another human being and not feel a single God damn thing.

* * *

Domitius hid his surprise better than Junia and Manius did as I walked into the room, scrubbed free of blood and ready to train. Without looking at them I walked over to the mats and began to stretch, feeling my muscles complain from where I'd been slammed against the wall and the counter last night. Just as with a long days training though it was a good pain. It was a pain of accomplishment.

"What are you doing here, Rabbit?" a strong but soft voice asked from behind me. I half turned and looked up at Domitius, my expression blank.

"I'm training. Isn't that what we do here?" Normally insolence like that wouldn't have gone uncommented but it seemed I was going to get away with it today. That alone made me kind of angry. How dare he treat me like I was different? He never had before.

"We don't train on days when our fathers have died," he said flatly, in a tone so expressionless that it told me he felt a lot. I'm guessing he wasn't particularly mourning the loss of my father.

I climbed to my feet, suppressing a wince as my ribs complained, and stood facing him, legs apart and hands on hips. I glared at him. "He didn't die, I killed him." The words came out louder than I'd intended and a nervous hush fell across the rest of the room. Most of them looked like they were trying not to look at me, except for Junia and Manius who were openly staring and Domitius who was holding my furious glare. I felt more isolated and distant from all of them in that single moment than I ever had.

"Walk with me," he snapped, turning on his heel. I threw a vicious look around the room, and watched them all duck their heads, and then followed him.

* * *

He led me into the little room that I had seen him come in and out of many times but I'd never entered. To my surprise it looked like an office. I'd never imagined the trainers had offices, but as I surveyed the charts of strategy and lists of students and weapons and scores of battles I realised he had to have somewhere to organise it all. He'd always made it look so effortless but I realised now that a great deal of preparation went into every activity we did. My eyes roamed over a list of names and mine jumped out to me immediately. Next to it were a list of numbers, some large some small, but before I could follow the column to see what they meant he had covered the papers with a folder. I looked up sheepishly, guilty at having been caught snooping, but he didn't seem to mind.

He pointed at a bench that sat facing the desk and I awkwardly folded myself onto it. Domitius didn't take a seat, instead he leant against the desk and crossed his arms, looking at me. To avoid his gaze I let my eyes roam the rest of the room, and settled with surprise on a wall of mismatched photographs. Photos weren't a common thing here. They were quite complicated and expensive to produce so most people were lucky if they got one family portrait. Of course, we'd never had our photos taken. As my eyes took in each face I realised what it was; a tribute wall.

"They're all your students who've competed, aren't they?" I asked, glancing back at Domitius. His eyes moved to where I'd been looking and he nodded.

There were around a dozen photos and it surprised me to know Domitius had trained that many tributes. He wasn't particularly old, though now that I thought about it I wasn't sure exactly how old he was. He was the same age as my mother, I guessed. But then I had no idea how old she was either. She'd always looked much older than I thought a mother should. My eyes lingered on the most recent photograph. Tass looked as bright and beautiful as she always had, smiling slightly at the camera as if she'd been told not to laugh but couldn't resist. I felt an overwhelming sadness at the sight of her. How strange, that last night I had slain the man who gave me life, and yet today I was mourning the death of a girl I'd known for only a few short months. But Tass wasn't like everyone else.

As I looked back at Domitius I saw his eyes were lingering on her photo too, and he looked very far away. Not for the first time I wondered why she inspired so much emotion in him. A lingering look was a lot of emotion from Domitius, I had learnt by now. Maybe it was because she'd won against all the odds and then it hadn't mattered anyway.

I rocked back on the bench slightly and the sound seemed to draw Domitius back. He fixed his eyes on me again and I determinedly took to studying the floor at my feet. "Why are you acting like it's a big deal?" I asked after the silence began to burn. I shrugged. "Killing's what we do, isn't it?"

Domitius cleared his throat. "We kill, in the Arena, when we're eighteen. And we're not killing the man who's made our life hell for fifteen years."

I shot him a vicious look but he didn't react. I couldn't scare him no matter how hard I tried. "Hell is relative," I said carefully, measuring my words. "If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here now."

He inclined his head in agreement and looked at me intently. "Perhaps I wasn't talking about you," he said softly and I looked up at him startled. He grimaced and glanced away, as if even that small revelation pained him, then he seemed to force himself to look back at me. "You did well, Enobaria," he said finally. It was the first time he had called me by my first name.

* * *

**A/N: Three notes to make.**

Thank you for the reviews my lovelies!

The Other LaChance- I love that you've read both! This story may or may not follow the same events of the one shot (hint, may not in the following few chapters) :p

Anla'shok- one way of looking at it is that I did change canon, yes. Though I personally prefer to think that Katniss was a bit of a ninny and got the years wrong. In all seriousness though, it was a very hard decision to make but I wanted Clove to be old enough to remember Enobaria's Games, and she was a toddlers for the 62nd.

Again Anla'shok- you've inadvertently raised one of the key questions I wanted to explore in this story: 'Do people need an 'excuse' to become cruel, violent or twisted?' Have a think of the characters so far, those that have an 'excuse' and those that don't. I'll leave you to ponder than but I'll just say one more thing. You seem to think that Clove has an excuse for being a little twisted...does she?

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_Aeron means Mountain of Strength_


	13. Chapter 13

"Why don't we start with Reyes?" Aemilia said, her eyes resting on me coldly. I matched her gaze and stepped forwards. I'd known she'd pick me. Any chance she could have to watch me get beaten... or so she thought. Every now and then the training groups sparred against each other. And today Domitius' group was fighting Aemilia's group. Joy for me. It was tradition that each trainer picked the student from the opposite group, so I looked towards Domitius to see who he would pair me with. His eyes ran along the lines of students and I suppressed a grim smile. I already knew who he was going to chose. Aemilia probably expected him to pick out the smallest weakest one but I knew Domitius would pick out the very opposite. I knew that his eyes would be pretending to look along the lines, but his mind would already have settled on the tall blonde boy. There were half a dozen of this group that I recognised from that late night in the training centre, but Ronan was the one who I especially wanted. I wanted to have my revenge for that night when he had made me feel so powerless and humiliated. And Domitius was more than happy to let me have my revenge. He had never mentioned what he walked in on that night but I saw the way his eyes narrowed on the boys whenever our groups combined.

"You." He pointed towards Ronan after a moment of pretend deliberation. Ronan stepped forwards, throwing Domitius a hated and wary look before letting his eyes slip to me. They lit up when he saw me and he cracked his knuckles, looking extremely pleased with himself. I didn't match his smirk, but held him with a cold and steady gaze. Inside I was pleased. This was going to be sweet revenge.

We climbed nimbly up onto the central mat and both groups crowded around. All Aemilia's and Domitius' students were there, from the tiny nervous looking twelve years olds to the arrogant eighteen year olds. Domitius and Aemilia took up places on opposite sides of the mat, their arms crossed and their eyes narrowed on us critically.

There was no sounding bell, it was a free fight. That meant no weapons and no interference and pretty much no rules. The fight ended when one of us was down or conceded. I could tell from the smirk on Ronan's face that he completely expected that person to be me. He was in for a nasty shock. Didn't he know I was a killer now?

My training group knew, I saw it in their eyes. They'd seen how I'd changed these last few days since my father died...was killed. No one spoke to me about it and it appeared as if I were going to be able to pretend as if it never happened. I'm sure it was still gossip in the town but that didn't bother me. I certainly didn't care the more people who knew what I was capable of. Apparently Ronan and his group didn't share any such impression of me, though they surely heard what had happened.

There were still a lot of things I didn't understand. My mother had shown up on the doorstep looking as blank as ever and not even flinching when they told her her husband was dead. They had let us just return to the house that very night and no one even came asking about us. I don't know what Amica had told them and I don't want to know. They let Clove and I continue to live there just as we had, with my mother's silence deafeningly loud from the bedroom, and me looking after her. We never mentioned my father or what I had done but sometimes I caught Clove staring at the spot of the floor where his blood had spread.

"This is going to be fun," Ronan said as he paced in a half circle around me, his eyes flicking over my body. I gave him a grim smile and tensed my limbs.

"Oh yes," I said smoothly. "It is."

I attacked before he did. Never again was I going to find myself on the defence. I enjoyed his noise of surprise as I darted in purposefully, only to duck and spin to the side at the last minute, coming around behind him and sending my elbow into his ribs. He gasped in pain and I felt a satisfying snap as my elbow connected hard with his side. I'd broken a rib.

But he remained on his feet and turned to me, his face twisted in anger and pain. I watched him warily and bounced on my toes. His first attack was a series of well manoeuvred blows that were designed to use his sheer size and strength to push me back. I dodged each one though I knew their aim wasn't to hit me. He had successfully cornered me on the edge of the mat and brought his leg out in a sideways kick. Unable to go anywhere I turned my body, accepting the kick on my hip bone instead of my vulnerable ribs and torso. It still smacked painfully and sent me toppling sideways. I was never going to get away from the fact that most students had size and strength that I could never hope to match. It was an advantage yes, but it just meant that I had to learn to fight in other ways.

I ducked under his arm as he brought another blow down and spun around behind him again. He was stupid. I'd already done that once and he was leaving himself open to the same attack. I hit him again in the same place and he let out a bellow as I undoubtedly cracked another few ribs. I shook my head, clearing a few strands of hair that had fallen loose. He was strong but he didn't learn from his mistakes and that was a fatal flaw.

He rounded on my again, leaning to the side slightly, and charged. I stopped darting and let him hit me, bringing us both to the ground with a painful crash. His weight on top of me crushed all the air from my lungs, but I could tell that he was caught by surprise by my submission to his attack. He hadn't expected me to stop fighting. The moment of surprise was enough for me to bring my knee up and wedge it into his stomach, rolling him over at the same time till I was on top of him. Distantly I could hear shouts and calls from the students around us but I had no idea whether they were for me or Ronan. When I was fighting everything else fell away and only he and I existed. His stupid face showed his shock as he realised what I'd done, and he immediately tried to throw me off. I dug my knees into his sides though, clinging on and achieving another gasp of pain from him as I compressed his ribs. I barely even noticed my own aches and pains in the adrenalin rush of the pain I was inflicting. My breath was coming in short bursts and my pulse was racing so fast it was almost making me light headed.

"Give up yet?" I asked breathlessly, balancing my forearm over his throat. His face contorted as I began to crush his windpipe but he maintained his glare and tried again to throw me off. I could see his anger and humiliation. He was being beaten by a girl, and a small one at that. He was never going to live this down. Perhaps if I'd been anyone else I'd have felt a tiny bit of pity for him. No doubt he'd get punished severely by Aemilia for losing so shamefully, especially to me. But I didn't give pity and I only took delight as I watched his face begin to lose colour as he struggled to get any air into his lungs. "Give up!" I hissed at him, leaning forwards.

There was even more shouting from behind me now but I was completely fixed on Ronan in front of me. One of his arms was pinned beneath his back but the other was waving in the air, scrabbling at me in an attempt to make me stop. He managed to get a grip on my face but I shook him off and pressed harder to his throat. The fragile little bones in his neck were surely seconds away from snapping and my blood was racing with the thought. I licked my lips and looked into his eyes, craving that look of panic as he realised he was about to die.

There was a loud shout next to me and the next second firm hands were gripping my arms and pulling me forcefully off of Ronan. I screamed in anger and kicked out as someone lifted me into the air but they ignored it. Ronan began choking and gasping in air, writhing around underneath me as I was pulled off him. With dismay I saw the colour flood back into his face. He rolled onto his side clutching his throat and gasping. I clawed at the person pulling me backwards and I heard them swear loudly. "Stop!" Domitius was shouting at me as I clawed at him. "Stop it! Enobaria, stop!"

At the sound of my name and fully realising it was him I stopped trying to attack him and instead twisted around, trying to get back to Ronan. He was looking at me now, a hand to his throat and his eyes apprehensive of me. He stared at me like he was seeing a crazy person.

"Get off me!" I screamed, trying to free myself but Domitius dragged me from the mats. I caught sight of Aemilia standing over Ronan with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. She looked furious and she turned and shot me a vicious look. The other students stepped back hurriedly as Domitius' dragged me passed them. They averted their eyes and I wasn't sure whether it was the furious, intimidating trainer or the screaming crazy girl they were more scared of.

As we reached the doors to the smaller training rooms I stopped trying to fight Domitius and began to walk for myself. He still kept a firm grip on my arm though, his fingers digging into my skin. They'd definitely leave bruises. "Get off me!" I said angrily, trying to shake him off but he didn't even acknowledge me, just dragged me through the doors into the narrow corridor and shoved me against a wall.

"What the hell was that?!" he demanded instantly, rounding on me.

I glared back at him. "Why did you stop me? I was winning! He was as good as dead!"

He let out a sigh of frustration. I shrugged my shoulders and slumped against the wall, looking up at him sulkily. Now that I'd stopped fighting the aches were starting to seep in. Sharp pains were needling through my hip every time I moved and my left wrist was complaining. I'd forgotten to strap it and it hadn't appreciated being used so aggressively. Domitius ran a hand over his head and looked at me in exasperation. I could tell he was half angry at me and half supportive of what I was saying. He knew more than anyone why I wanted Ronan dead. "You've done enough killing for one week."

I shrugged again. "It doesn't matter to me. I won the fight, I should get to kill him." I stared at him defiantly and I could see the thoughts flickering across his eyes. He studied me then sighed again, stepping closer. I watched him warily, straightening my back.

"Relax, Rabbit," he sighed. "I'm not going to attack you."

I lifted my chin to show him I wasn't scared of him. "So, why can't I kill him? It will be good practice." To me it seemed perfectly logical. What was the point in waiting until the Arena to kill people? Watching the life drain from my father's eyes had flicked a switch in me. I knew what it felt like to kill now and I didn't want to wait till I was eighteen. And it wasn't like I hadn't won the right to kill Ronan fair and square. We'd fought, he'd lost. He died. I knew the Centre rules and Domitius himself didn't disagree with that logic, and I doubted that he'd saved Ronan for Ronan's sake. It seemed he either didn't know how to answer me or didn't want to. His eyes were focused on me intently and his expression was frustratingly unreadable. Then he sighed and turned away.

"At least I know I won't have a repeat of Tacita," he muttered to himself and pushed through the doors back to the main training room. I stayed where I was, confused by his comment. Now that the adrenalin was almost completely gone I was tired and everything was starting to ache. Just before the door closed Domitius caught it and looked back at me. "Get yourself warmed down, cleaned up and go home," he said dismissively.

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**A/N: Thank you darling reviewers. I adore hearing your thoughts and speculations.**


	14. Chapter 14

The day before my seventeenth birthday Clove marched into the kitchen and slammed a knife down before me. Luckily she placed it flat or I would have been at risk of losing one of my fingers. I prepared to snap at her but froze when I noticed the blade. That smooth black handle. It was the knife I killed _him_ with. I hadn't seen it since the night my father had died and I had absolutely no idea how Clove had gotten it. I had presumed that like the body it had just vanished that night.

Since that night Clove was different. She wasn't frightened anymore. That night it was if she had shaken off her timid little self and in its place stood a more determined girl, angrier, fiercer, colder. Almost every week she got into a fight at either training or school and she refused to take her training at the pace the teachers dictated. She pestered them and me non-stop about weapons, demanding that she get to practice with them. The teachers were almost as exhausted with her as I was.

Sometimes it was frustrating but I was just glad she wasn't scared anymore. Although for the past two months she had relentlessly been pestering me about teaching her how to throw knives. She always tried when I came home from training completely exhausted and aching, or when we were just about to go to sleep, curled up in bed together.

I would always be just drifting off to sleep when I'd feel her giving me a sharp jab with her elbows, knowing what would be coming next.

"Will you teach me tomorrow?"

I'd groan at her damned persistence and bury my face in the pillow, trying to block her out as I sought much needed sleep. She was relentless though most nights, poking me and once even kicking me until I'd open my eyes, snapping at her to shut up and go to sleep. Sometimes that would be enough and I'd hear her muttering under her breath as she reburied herself into the covers next to me, but other nights we'd have to repeat the process several times until I fell asleep too exhausted to keep arguing. Sometimes her little voice pleading, nagging, demanding me would drift into my dreams. "Ena, come on teach me. Tomorrow, Ena. Tomorrow."

She was being tricky, trying to wear me down and get me to say yes when I was most tired and compliant. It hadn't worked yet though.

There was a reason that they didn't teach you weapons skills until you went to Senior Training. It was because, even in District 2, it was considered dangerous for an eight year old to know how to use a knife as a weapon. Well, a normal eight year old. Lately a part of my brain had begun to give in to her demands. Clove wasn't a normal kid. She'd had to defend herself against people much bigger and stronger than her already. She'd fought and she'd won. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Despite my bending conviction as I looked between her and the blade in front of me my heart sank. I hated the idea that she had been storing it away. It was a secret she'd kept from me and I didn't like the idea. We didn't keep anything from each other, or at least nothing like this. I brushed aside my guilty thoughts of all the times I had lied to her when she was younger about where my bruises and such had come from. That was for her own good, before she should have known what our father was truly like. It wasn't the same thing as keeping this from me.

"Clove where did you get this?" I asked in a quiet voice, running my fingertips through the air an inch above the blade. For some reason I didn't want to touch it yet. It was silly though, so I forced myself to lower my fingers and brush them against the metal. It was comfortingly cool and smooth against my skin, but it felt electric, like it sent a jolt up my arm. I withdrew my fingers and sat back, looking at her for an answer.

She shrugged and dropped heavily into the seat next to me. "I kept it," she said simply with an expression that told me she didn't see anything wrong with that.

I inhaled sharply and looked away. I didn't want to ask her for a further explanation because I was certain I didn't want to know. "Clove, I'm not teaching you," I said tiredly. Domitius had increased my training by an extra hour two weeks ago and now I wasn't getting home till 8 most nights. Weekends were the only time I had free and even then I was always exercising and doing my own training. The hard work didn't bother me. Every night when I dropped exhausted into bed I knew that it brought me one step closer to walking into, and out of, that Arena. It was pretty much the only thing I thought about these days.

"En, _please_," Clove said seriously, setting her dark eyes on me. She looked completely desperate and I knew she must be if she was using the word please. It wasn't something that anyone heard from Clove very often. For better or worse she had learnt all her attitude and manners from Amica's boys. A fierce eight year old who had learnt her attitude from three rough and boisterous older boys was not something to be reckoned with. As I looked at her dubiously I wondered if adding knife skills to that was really a good idea. I shook my head, swatting in frustration at my hair that was for once hanging loose and over my shoulders. "Ena I _need_ this," she pleaded.

I picked up the knife and began to absently dig it into the wooden surface of the table. "Clove you're already doing well at training. You'll learn weapons skill in time, I promise."

"But I can't wait to do it with everyone else. I need this Ena. I need to be prepared for when I go to train like you. I need to be the best at it." I looked at her again, the knife balanced on its point. In her eyes I recognised my own pleading determination. She had the same drive I did, the same thirst to prove herself to everyone. I knew how that felt, to be constantly assumed weaker simply because of her size or her sex or because of who her father had been. I knew how much it hurt, and how that hurt could turn to anger until it was all you wanted, to prove them all wrong. I also knew the feeling of power and adrenalin that could flood your body when you did prove them wrong. There was no comparison among anything else for how good that felt. How could I deny her that?

Picking up the knife I held it out to her, blade towards me. "Okay," I said and she actually smiled. Her whole body picked up, her back straightening instantly. She went to reach for the knife but I spun it around in a blur until the blade was inches from her fingers. She froze and lifted her eyes to mine. "I'll teach you, Clove. But you have to listen to everything I say, understand_? Every_thing."

She nodded slowly, her eyes deadly serious and trained on my face. I nudged the knife forwards and she wrapped her fingers around the handle, her eyes gleaming as she looked at it. I still wasn't sure it was a good idea, but at least this way she would be able to defend herself. That was how I justified it to myself anyway.

* * *

"Okay, first of all, stance," I said, walking in a circle around Clove. It was a Saturday afternoon and we had retreated to the woods behind our house. I had several knives slipped into my belt but Clove's hands were empty. She followed me with her eyes as I prowled around her.

"Don't I need a knife?" she asked.

"No," I snapped. "Now shut up and do as I say." She scowled at me and I glared back until she dropped her eyes and shuffled her feet obediently. "Alright. You need to be light on your feet. Bounce on the balls of your feet so you're ready to move at any moment. Never let your guard down and always be prepared."

To her credit she took on every one of my words obediently. I nodded and walked a few meters away, before turning back to her. She was dancing on the balls of her feet, watching me carefully. Good thing she was because next moment I'd sent one of my small knives spinning through the air towards her. Of course, it was never going to hit her, but it was aimed close enough to give her a fright. She dived to the side and was back on her feet a few feet away seconds later, tensed and watching me. I was mildly impressed. "Good. No point handling a knife if you can't dodge one," I said curtly, refusing to let her see that I was pleased with her. "Try again." Before I had finished the words another knife was spinning towards her and just as with the first she had darted away. In her two quick movements she had spun herself almost behind me and as I turned to face her something slammed into me, catapulting me to the ground with a small flying force. She caught me by a half second of surprise but I had learnt to recover quickly and I was twice her size. I had rolled her over and had her pinned beneath me in seconds without even losing my breath. She looked up at me, panting for breath, and grinned wickedly.

"I almost got you," she said happily. Without her noticing I slid a hidden knife from a sheath on my wrist and I took grim delight in the way her eyes widened as I pressed it to her throat.

"Not quite," I breathed, feeling the familiar prickling sensation over my body that came when I had cool metal pressed against skin. The control was intoxicating, even if it was Clove. I licked my dry lips and tried to resist the almost overwhelming urge to press just a little deeper and see that elegant line of blood trail down her pale skin. If this was the training centre I'd have done it by now. The only thing stopping me now was Clove's scattered breath against the side of my arm and her eyes staring up at me. Those eyes were more familiar to me than my own and it was they that made me pull back slightly, releasing the pressure against her throat. Clove didn't seem at all concerned. In fact her eyes were gleaming with unmistakable excitement and I could feel her pulse pounding under my fingertips. She stared at me with wide eyes for a few seconds and I stared back.

"Teach me how to do it. Ena," she whispered reverently. "Teach me how to kill someone."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so, so much for the reviews on the last chapter everyone.**

**One point I'll make to save confusion. Domitius was the only one to stop Enobaria killing Ronan, and he had his reasons. No one else moved to prevent his death. Enobaria said in the last chapter that Ronan's death would not be against the logic of the centre, or even normally against Domitius' own. Summary: killing can and does happen in the training centre.**


	15. Chapter 15

"I think you should put your name forward," he said simply, his eyes on a pair of spinning and sparring students across the room from me. I glanced sideways at him. There was no one else in ear shot so he had to be talking to me.

"You what?"

Domitius' eyes flicked to mine and he gave me a contemptuous look that told me he didn't like having to repeat himself. "Nominate. I want you to nominate yourself for volunteer this year. The interviews are in two weeks."

I think my mouth was hanging open in confusion. "But I'm seventeen, I've still got a year to go," I stuttered, suddenly feeling strangely panicked at the thought of nominating myself. I'd been working on the timeline of another year. Even the thought that I could volunteer left me feeling unbalanced, and I hated that feeling.

"It doesn't _have_ to be an eighteen year old," he said, looking back to the sparring students. "We choose who is best from those available." I followed his eyes to the pair of students. They were two of the eighteen year olds and they were good. They moved effortlessly but there was something slightly mechanical about their movements. I tried to hide a smug smile that threatened me at the thought of what Domitius was really saying. A small flower of pride was slowly unfurling in me.

"And...and you think I'm good enough?" I asked in a quiet voice, not quite daring to voice the question in case I didn't like the answer.

Domitius didn't answer me for a few minutes but kept his eyes on the students, his head following them as they moved. I was beginning to worry I'd misunderstood when he spoke again.

"I think you should nominate," he repeated simply as one of the students stumbled backwards, the other bringing her training sword down to her throat. He clapped his hands to get their attention and walked away from me without another word. I crossed my arms over my chest and allowed myself a small smile of triumph. A part of me wanted to almost dance with happiness but I was far too controlled for that.

"What are you grinning about?" asked Manius curiously, sidling up next to me with a friendly nudge.

Quickly I wiped the smile from my face and returned to my usual cold look that didn't give anything away. "Nothing," I said quickly. Even happiness was an emotion too dangerous to show.

* * *

"You can go in now." A tall, thin blonde woman stood in the doorway, motioning me forwards. I had never seen her before in my life and I wondered if she was one of the town officials. The entrance way of the training centre was deserted apart from me. No one came in early on a Saturday morning; no one who wasn't sitting her interview for volunteer anyway. Domitius had talked me through the process but I was still nervous as I followed the woman into the room.

Just as he said six people sat around a table, one empty chair near me facing them all. As I walked in, trying to straighten by back and look them all coldly in the eye, I locked eyes with Domitius. He sat between Aemilia and a fierce looking man I didn't know. Priscus and the two other senior trainers sat on Aemilia's other side. Next to the unknown man sat a person I had only ever seen from a distance. It was the mayor and I was surprised to see him there. Domitius hadn't mentioned that such distinguished people would be on the interview panel, not to mention that he could hardly put his official seal on a matter such as this. The thin disguise of our training centres and programs was the peacekeeping career, but the mayor partaking in the selection of the volunteer when that was forbidden was another matter. Just like everything else though it was likely that the Capitol was willing to look the other way for what we gave them in return. By selecting our tributes we ensured them a certain level of bloodthirstiness in their entertainment every year. They were never going to deny that.

Hovering nervously behind the mayor was a man with purple hair and skin so deathly pale it had to be makeup. He surveyed me, twitching disturbingly, before falling into a seat next to the mayor. So I guess this was the Capitol representative who was tasked with determining who could make an impression in the Capitol. From the frown he gave me I wasn't sure whether I passed or not.

"If you could take a seat..." said the blonde woman, placing a hand firmly on the small of my back and directing me towards the empty chair. I shrugged off her touch and scowled at her, walking forwards unaided and primly taking a seat, staring around the table.

They all looked back at me, each gaze assessing me differently but no less intently. Aemilia was glaring at me so hard I thought she might burst a blood vessel. Well I knew I couldn't count on her vote, no surprises there.

"Could you tell us your name please," said Priscus after a few moments, resting his startling blue eyes on me. They reminded me of someone, but I couldn't place who.

I looked to Domitius and he inclined his head reassuringly. "Enobaria Reyes," I said clearly, trying to project my voice around the room with more strength than I felt in that moment. I wanted their acceptance so badly that it physically hurt, my stomach twisted into painful knots.

"And your age?"

"Seventeen."

"Do you have any family, Enobaria?" Priscus pressed, the questions monotonous as if he had asked them a dozen times already that day, which he probably had.

"My sister. Clove," I replied simply, staring at a spot on the table determinedly.

"Her mother was Victor of the 49th and her father of the 45th Games," cut in the mayor, and I looked up surprised that someone knew. Then I saw he was just reading off a piece of paper before him. He lifted his eyes over it and inspected me critically. "I remember your father's Games. Very impressive. Bloodlust like that doesn't come along every day."

I wasn't sure if there was a question in his words so I decided to stay silent, blinking back at him blankly. I had no desire to be compared to my father, or to use his name to win me favour. The mayor inspected me for a few moments then glanced back at his piece of paper, seemingly done.

"Your training scores are quite impressive, Enobaria," said Priscus, running his eyes over the papers before him. I recognised some of them from Domitius' office. "And I'm sure none of us forget the bloody deer carcass you deposited as a present in the training room." There was a slight smile to his thin lips as he spoke and suddenly I knew that I could count on his vote. He glanced across at his fellow trainers and I saw Aemilia was looking stonily ahead of her, refusing to look at me. I smirked, revelling in her fury.

"Do you think you can win?" Priscus asked suddenly. I was caught off guard by the blunt question. It seemed an odd one to ask. Surely no one would nominate themselves if they didn't think they could win. But then I remembered what Domitius had told me the evening before.

"They're not just looking for skill, Rabbit. They want to know how much you want it, how much you need it. Show them that."

I looked Priscus dead in the eye, then ran my eyes slowly along the line, over Aemilia who still refused to look at me, Domitius who was as expressionless as ever, the unknown man who was yet to say a word, the mayor who was looked mildly intrigued and finally the Capitol representative, who glanced away from me nervously, trembling. Then I flicked my eyes back to Priscus and smiled.

"I _know_ I can win."

* * *

For the first time I was among the nervous, restless students who were waiting for the names to be announced with the hope that they would hear theirs among them. I didn't know what to expect. Several people had made it perfectly clear that underagers, those under eighteen, never got chosen. It had never happened here before, surely there was no reason to think this year would be any different. But I had felt so sure of myself in that interview. I had looked into their eyes and I was sure I saw recognition there, recognition that I could do this. Surely it didn't matter than I was only seventeen.

I hadn't told anybody that I had nominated. I didn't want to give them any more reason to throw abuse at me. So I stood with the others from my training class and pretended not to be as anxious as I was. Manius and Junia next to me were standing close together, their arms pressed against each other in a tiny gesture of their romance. No one else would notice normally but once I'd known there was something between them I kept seeing it every day. Little glances they'd throw each other and touches that would linger a little too long when they passed a weapon. They had both nominated and I couldn't help but wonder if they'd thought about what would happen if they had to enter the Arena together. If they had it wasn't visible in their expressions. They both had their eyes fixed on the stage, not giving any emotion away.

The twelve year olds up the front shifted restlessly as a group and I knew the trainers had entered. A second later I spotted Priscus' figure walking to the centre of the mats. Domitius and Aemila flanked him on either side, a little distance away. I looked to Domitius, but I already knew that I was not going to be able to tell a thing from his expression. His gaze was set somewhere over our heads.

Priscus cleared his throat and I felt a nervous buzz of energy ripple through everyone. My stomach was fluttering like crazy and my throat was dry no matter how many times I swallowed. It was a good anticipation though, strong. It wasn't the same sort of fear that I used to feel when my father came home. This was a fear that told me I was powerful.

"The male volunteer for the 67th Hunger Games will be Manius Ortez." With those few words someone I knew well was going into the Arena. I half turned to Manius, unsmiling. I didn't know whether to congratulate him or not. He untangled himself from Junia's invisible embrace and walked forwards without a backwards glance at her. My eyes stayed on her a second longer, looking for emotion, but all I could see was that she was blinking rapidly. I wondered if they were tears of sadness or happiness that threatened to fall.

Then I turned my attention back to Priscus. This was what I had been nervously awaiting for the past two weeks.

"The female volunteer for the 67th Hunger Games will be Enobaria Reyes." My name. I stared at him in shock, my arms dropping from where they had been crossed over my chest. I blinked at him, wondering if I had heard wrong. Maybe my brain so badly wanted to hear my name that it had somehow manipulated the sounds. But then people were turning towards me, looks ranging from horror to surprise to fury on their faces. Many of the eighteen year olds looked like they wanted to shout out and raise a protest but they held their tongues. I felt a shove in my back and glanced over my shoulder. Another seventeen year old was nudging me forwards. It was all the push I needed and my legs began working again, carrying me through the crowd of silent, stunned students. I walked up to Priscus side and turned to face them. Fifty faces looked back at me, completely and utterly silent. Not one person made a noise, of either support or protest as they stared me down.

Priscus cleared his throat, clearly unnerved by the complete silence. It was unusual, but then so was my acceptance. It was really only then that it sunk in. I was the youngest person ever to be chosen to volunteer. Me.

"Everyone, I give you, the District Two tributes of the 67th Hunger Games!" I felt Priscus grasp my wrist, pulling my hand over my head. He had done the same to Manius on the other side, raising our hands in honour. There was an awkward pause as the silence stretched until a loud clap started and then rippled out through the students. Still no one spoke, and their faces were stony and blank, but they were all clapping us, the sounds echoing around me eerily.

* * *

I moved through the groups after the announcement had broken up. No one met my eyes.

"Obviously I did not vote for you," said a steely voice from behind me. I turned to meet Aemilia's cold eyes. She looked less than impressed with my selection and clearly felt the need to tell me she had no part in it. She took a calculated step towards me but I didn't move back. She couldn't do anything. "They should never have chosen you," she continued. "You're never going to be able to bring honour to this district."

I looked Aemilia dead in the eye. I wasn't afraid of her anymore. "Well, at least you won't have to mentor me," I said in a loud, clear voice, knowing that the turning students around us could hear me. I tilted my head to the side and frowned at Aemilia, feigning innocence. "It's only Victors who get to mentor, isn't it?"

She didn't reply but I could see from the way her body shook that she was only barely controlling the urge to wrap her fingers around my throat and shake the life from me. I decided I wasn't going to give her the chance to lose that control, and I spun on my heel and walked away. There was a soft titter of laughter from a few of the watching students and as I walked away I heard the snap of Aemilia's voice. Those students were not in for a pleasant time. I would have mentally apologised to them but I didn't feel a single ounce of guilt for what I had said. In fact, I practically bounced from the Centre out into the bright sunshine of the Square.

Making people hate me had never felt so good.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sure you clever people have worked out by now but obviously the story doesn't document every step of Enobaria's life, it does leap forwards sometimes in small intervals. However from here on out it's going to be fairly fluent because guess what?! We're getting to the exciting bit! **

**Hope you enjoyed sharp tongued Ena there, and please remember to review because I love you dearly if you do. -Lu**


	16. Chapter 16

I did my best to ignore the whispers of the other students as I walked out of the Centre that evening. Not one person had come up to congratulate me on being chosen. It didn't matter. I'd never had friends anyway so it didn't matter. But their eyes were heavy on my back as I walked down the street towards home.

Instead of focusing on the stony silence that had met my announcement at the Centre, I chose instead to focus on what Clove's reaction would be when I told her. I could already picture her delighted face. She was as obsessed with the Hunger Games as I was and she'd been talking for weeks already about this year's Games. She hadn't expected me to be nominated. She, like everyone, wouldn't expect a seventeen year old to be volunteering this year.

The kitchen lights were on as I walked up the front path. Clove must have come home, probably hoping to get the volunteer announcement out of me the second I walked through the door. She still spent a lot of time at Amica's with Cato but now that she was almost nine she felt she was grown up enough to go home by herself. Well, she wasn't exactly by herself. Our mother would almost always be in her bedroom with the lights off. Now, without my father, she very rarely left the house. But she was so useless and invisible that Clove might as well be home alone.

But tonight I was determined to make my mother look at me. Tonight, of all nights, surely she could finally look at me with something that might resemble pride. She was a Career through and through. Surely now that I was one too she could look at me and recognise me as her daughter.

The second that I pushed open the front door Clove was before me, her eyes gleaming brightly, and her face hopeful. "Who is it Ena? Who is it?"

I turned as I shut the door, buying myself some time by staring at the wood. I couldn't look at her excited face without wanting to smile at the knowledge that it was me. And that would spoil it.

"I'll tell you in a minute, Clover," I said evenly and heard her mutter something grumpily under her breath. Clover wasn't what you called a grown up girl of nine. It was a baby name and she only let _me_ get away with calling her that. Getting my emotions under control I turned to face her, my face impassive. "Can you do me favour, Clo?" I asked. "Can you knock on mother's door and ask her to join us at the table." She stared at me in surprise for a moment. It was a strange request and I could see why she was reluctant to do it. We ignored my mother and she ignored us. Everything worked perfectly that way. But I raised by eyebrows at her expectantly and she turned, walking off down the hall. I moved into the kitchen and slowly took a seat at the kitchen table. I could faintly hear Clove knocking, and then her voice murmuring something. Then she knocked again. It surprised me when I heard another voice in reply. I hadn't expected Clove to succeed after only two knocks. Perhaps I hadn't expected her to succeed at all.

When she reappeared in the doorway my mother was behind her, looking at me warily. I stared back at her blankly. "Could you take a seat?" I asked politely, nodding to the chair opposite me. As if she thought it a trick she moved towards me and folded herself into the chair. I surveyed her. Every time I saw her she looked older. There was deep lines etched into her face and her hair was already greying. She was thin too, her bones poking out awkwardly. I pulled myself away from the pitying direction of my thoughts and waited for Clove to slip into the seat next to me.

I took a deep breath, aware that they were both staring at me intently. There was wariness in my mother's eyes that made me wonder if she already guessed what I was going to tell her. Clove of course was thoroughly confused, biting her lip and frowning at me anxiously.

I fixed my eyes on the centre of the table. "I have been chosen to volunteer for the 67th Hunger Games," I announced, carefully pronouncing each word so neither of them could miss a single syllable. I heard Clove's sharp intake of breath and then a little gasp. My mother was frozen, her eyes fixed on my face. It made me uncomfortable. She'd rarely really looked at me before. It reminded me of the time I had come home from killing my first deer, and how she had looked at me, properly _seen_ me for the first time then. She looked just as displeased now as she did then.

"But Ena you're seventeen!" Clove's voice exclaimed.

My mother seemed to start at this and frowned at me. "What? You can't volunteer at seventeen," she stated dumbly, as if she hadn't realised until Clove said it that I was underage. She probably hadn't.

"There's no rule saying someone younger than eighteen can't volunteer. It...just hasn't happened before." I ducked my head, trying to hide my pride from my mother, but she saw it. Something in her eyes flashed and she looked away, frowning at the wall. Clove looked ecstatic.

"You're the youngest one!?" she exclaimed, tilting her head to the side and grinning. I gave her a warning look and glanced towards our mother. Clove glanced dismissively at her and then back at me. "So you're really going into the Arena, Ena?" she asked in an awed voice. She rested her elbows on the table and leant her head on her hands, looking at me intently.

I nodded, still suppressing my smile. "I'm going to be competing in the 67th Hunger Games." I said the words aloud for the first time, and now I couldn't help but smile at them. Clove gave a manic little laugh at the sight, as if my happiness was contagious. I looked firmly at my mother, who was still ignoring us both, staring at the wall. "I'm going to compete and I'm going to win," I stated loudly, wanting her to look at me.

"Why are you crying?" Clove asked bluntly, looking at our mother too. I twisted in my seat slightly and saw what I had missed before. There were tears tracking silently down my mother's cheeks. Only when I'd seen did she look at me, as if she couldn't avoid it anymore.

Her eyes were glistening, her mouth set in a thin line, the ends tugged downwards. "You have no idea," she said softly to me, the words tinted with exasperation. I blinked back at her blankly, confused by her reaction. Indifference I had expected, anger possibly. But not sadness. I didn't know what to do with sadness.

My silence didn't matter though. It seemed Clove was going to take on our mother for me. She lay her arms on the table and leant forwards, glaring at her. "You could at least pretend to be happy for her!" she exploded with more anger than I'd ever heard her use. She suddenly seemed a lot older than eight years old. "It's not like it affects you one way or another, you don't care about us. Enobaria's going to be brilliant and she's going to win and come home famous and a Victor." Clove looked at me then, grinning smugly, and I gave her a small, hesitant smile in return. I didn't feel as good as she did about the tears on our mother's cheeks. Clove rapped her hand palm down on the table. "And then I'm going into the Games too and we'll really be a family of Victors!" It was hard to resist the complete conviction in her voice but the thought of Clove already deciding she was going to be in the Hunger Games made my skin prickle uncomfortably. It was completely hypocritical of me but I couldn't deny it. I didn't like the idea. Neither did my mother apparently, because she turned to me then, the tears still glittering on her cheeks but her eyes accusing.

"I hope you see what you've done. Throwing away your own life is one thing, but you've made your sister want to throw hers away as well." Without another word she rose regally from her chair and glided from the room. Clove looked at me in confusion, he smile gone, as we heard the snap of her bedroom door. I rested my head in my hands and stared at the grains of wood on the table. I hated my mother for ruining my elation at being chosen, but a small, nagging voice in the back of my head couldn't help but wonder at the truth to her words.

* * *

Reaping Day was almost painfully hot that year, or maybe it was just my nerves making me uncomfortable as I stood amid the crowd of teenagers

The trainers were lined up to one side of the stage, all looking as grim as each other. It wasn't exactly a day of celebration for us, although the Capitol people tried to make us all think it was. Even though there was no surprise for us in who would be going in the Games everyone was still tense. The Peacekeepers lined the crowd, penning us all in, and their weapons were a constant reminder pinned on our backs.

The Capitol escort flounced on stage. For some reason I'd thought it was going to be the person who had been at my interview, but this was a woman with waist length magenta hair and a figure so perfectly formed it was almost a little disturbing. Her waist was cinched in with a black belt that was fastened in the middle with the largest ruby I had ever seen. It caught the sunlight as she walked up to the microphone and momentarily blinded me. By the time the blinding scarlet spots had vanished from my vision the escort was standing smiling down at us all, her teeth flashing as brilliant as the ruby.

"Welcome welcome," she crowed. There was an awkward pause as she waited for the response that never came. Everyone stared back at her, blinking or glaring stonily. Despite living basically in the Capitol's pocket we still had very little tolerance for them. Half the crowd was made up of quarry workers and their families who lived in little shanty towns around the sites. They were easy to pick from the skinniness of their limbs and the permanent grime that seemed to be etched into their weary faces. The other half of the crowd was made up of those who were in some way connected with battle; the Victor's and their families, the trainers, the students, the Peacekeepers. You could pick us from the way we stood with our backs painfully straight, our heads lifted confidently towards the stage.

Without moving from my place I flexed my limbs, preparing myself for the moment when I would call out those two words and walk towards the stage with every eye on my back. I was thrilled and terrified at the idea. I wanted so badly to be up there, to have everyone looking at me and know that they had underestimated me, the little girl with the knives. I was going to prove them all so wrong.

After the usual video and the excited little speech that followed the escort clipped her way over to the bowl and rummaged around with long, manicured nails. I tensed myself, knowing that my moment was seconds away. She clasped a piece of paper and smiled. It was a slightly scary smile, almost carnivorous. She walked back to the microphone, her footsteps echoing around the space. Everyone followed her with their eyes, watching in complete silence. My heart was pounding in my chest in time with her steps and my throat was suddenly dry.

"Evina Renaldi!" she called out in a clear voice, smiling manically down at us. I waited to watch the small figure of a girl slip from the crowd. It was custom to let the reaped tribute move into the central aisle before volunteering. I'm not sure why, perhaps it made for better viewing. I saw the petite figure, her golden hair catching the sunlight, and her name suddenly hit home. Renaldi. That had been Tacita's name. Could this tiny creature with the golden ringlets be her little sister? But I couldn't think about that any more. She had moved into the central aisle and stood still, staring at the stage. The escort smiled around the crowd, clearly waiting for the volunteer she knew was coming.

I forced the words out passed my dry throat. "I volunteer!" The escort's face lit up and her eyes roamed the crowd hungrily for the source of the call, settling on me as I moved silently between the even more silent crowd. I could feel their eyes on my back as I walked into the central aisle. The little girl, Evina, turned and looked at me as I passed and I saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. But then she dropped her head, avoiding my gaze, and I walked passed her. I made sure to lift my head defiantly against the uncomfortable silence that was pressing against my back as I walked up the steps to the stage. The escort's long fingers settled on my shoulder and I turned a cold gaze on her. Her smile faltered slightly and her hand hurriedly withdrew from me.

"Tell the audience your name, sweetie," she prompted, holding the microphone to me. I turned away from her and looked out over the crowd. Hundreds of faces stared back at me. Without meaning to my eyes were scanning the middle of the girl's section, looking for Clove's dark head. Almost at the end of a row I spotted her, her piercing black eyes connecting with mine for a second. She smiled. It was enough for me to face that cold crowd and speak out in a loud and clear voice.

"Enobaria Reyes," I stated. The escort withdrew the microphone and gave a little tapping clap on her wrist.

"Lovely, lovely," she murmured. "Now for the boys!" And just like that I was officially the District 2 tribute for the Hunger Games. I stepped back as she went through the whole process again, calling out the name of one of Aemilia's training class. I saw the furious look on his face as Manius replaced him. It must be frustrating to be reaped and know that you may not even get the chance to volunteer when your time came.

Manius' eyes connected with mine for the briefest of seconds as he took his place beside me and he gave me a stern nod. He looked different today. There was something about him that was taller, stronger. I wondered if I looked the same, the knowledge that we had finally achieved our goals making us stand a little bit taller.

"Thank-you everyone!" the escort called across the crowd, clapping her hands together primly. She turned to us, that smile still on her face, though it again faltered slightly as we both glared back at her furiously. "Next stop the Capitol!" she said to us in an attempt to be friendly. When neither of us reacted she glanced nervously away and muttered something peppy to herself, tottering away.

* * *

The small room they placed me in within the Justice Building was the most ornate thing I had ever seen. It felt wrong. It was neither the bland, crumbling house I knew as home, the stark, severe lines of the training centre or the natural curves of the woods. I stared at the small window, framed by heavy velvet curtains, and wondered which direction it faced. If I went over to it now could I see parts of the town that were familiar to me? Would I be able to see the training centre?

I was distracted from my thoughts by the door opening. "Only a few minutes," said a stern Peacekeeper and I turned towards the door, already looking for Clove. Most people got so many visitors that they had to put a cap on it. But I'd known that Clove's was the only face I was going to see walk through that door.

My mother had not even emerged from her room this morning. It didn't surprise me. As far as I could remember she had never been to a Reaping Day. They were meant to be compulsory for every member of the district, but somehow no one ever seemed to notice that she wasn't there. And if they did they had obviously decided it was easier to simply let her stay in her darkened bedroom. Just because her daughter was volunteering didn't seem to be a good enough reason to break with that tradition this year.

So I was surprised when a second figure walked in behind Clove. My eyes locked with his and he smiled grimly at me.

"Hello there little Rabbit," Domitius said in a gruff voice. I tried to return his smile but found that I didn't have the ability to. So instead I fixed on Clove as she bounced up to me. Her black hair was brushed back in a severe ponytail for the day, just as mine always was. To us that was our most presentable. Somehow it made her look simultaneously smaller and older and the look she was giving me now didn't alter that.

"That was a great Reaping!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright as she looked at me. "You looked so good walking up there. I could tell they were all spitting jealous!"

I didn't share her enthusiasm of her opinions of the feelings of the crowd. As I looked over her head to Domitius I saw in his eyes that he didn't either. He gave me an encouraging nod and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You can do it, Rabbit. You know that," he said simply. Clove had turned to look at him and spun back to me now, nodding frantically.

"You can Ena! You're going to be amazing to watch I just know!" She came forwards and wrapped her arms around my waist. I patted the top of her head and then placed my arms around her shoulders. We'd never really hugged properly and it felt awkward to me now. But it also felt right.

Despite my absolute conviction that I could beat all the others I also knew that the Capitol liked to play games, and that if they wanted to they could kill me. I'd seen enough perfectly skilled and strong tributes struck down during the Games to know that. So I couldn't help but feel a little twinge of sadness as I hugged Clove.

When she pulled away from me she stepped backwards and I saw no such fear in her eyes. It gave me strength to know that she didn't have a single doubt that I would return to her. Her conviction was emboldening so when I met Domitius' eyes again my jaw was set and my eyes firm. He nodded approvingly again. "Just remember Rabbit. They can take your weapons away, but you can still fight. Use whatever you have- your hands, your legs, even your teeth if you have to."

I nodded again, as always taking on any teachings he decided to impart. I knew it but it was reassuring to hear him say it. "I'll be fine," I said, shaking my head dismissively and lifting my chin.

"Yeah, you will." When he said it I wasn't entirely sure whether it was an affirmation or threat.

* * *

**A/N: Let the Games begin!**

**To clove-plays-clarinet: There will most definitely be Clato in this story, though due to Clove's age currently the romantic side of their relationship won't start until part 2.**


	17. Chapter 17

It only took a few hours to get to the Capitol from District 2 though the journey took us on a complicated route through the mountains that divided us. I'd always liked the snow capped peaks looming on the distant southern border of the district because they represented a physical barrier between us and the madness that was the Capitol. Not that is made much difference really.

We had barely stepped onto the ridiculously claustrophobic, decorated carriage before Manius had thrown me one look before disappearing towards the other end of the train. The message in his look was clear. We may have trained side by side for the past five years, but for the Games we were as good as enemies. Only one of us would step down from this train onto the platform of District 2 again. I turned resolutely towards my own end of the train. In my head I threw him a silent apology. I was sorry he had to die, but the person who returned had to be me.

The train was unlike anything I had ever seen before. If I'd thought the rooms of the Justice Building were unnecessarily lavish then this was just ridiculous. As I walked through one of the deserted carriages my fingers trailed over plush velvet, and ran along gold gilded brocade, tugged at the delicate threads of tassels that dangled from the heavy curtain. The strange fabrics beneath my touch made me feel jumpy. This wasn't my home. Everything around me was strange and alien. It was only when my eyes fell on the cutlery arranged on a heavy mahogany dining table that my quickened breathing slowed slightly. Lamplight glinted off ornate silver knives and I picked one up. It was still too decorative, and not nearly sharp enough, but it was a blade nonetheless and with my fingers wrapped around it I felt a sense of control gradually seep back into me. I kept the knife with me, slipped into my sleeve where I could feel the cool metal against the rapid beat of my pulse and took up residence in one of the plush armchairs that faced away from the table. I watched unfamiliar scenery speed by. Greens and browns and occasional flashes of grey blended together as I let my mind wander towards the Capitol. My encounter with the Justice Building and this train only made me nervous of the looming city in a way that the Arena never would. All I had of the Capitol was rumours and stories and the memory of my parent's faces when they would return from weeks there. None of it eased the nervous fluttering of my heart.

The sun was low on the horizon when the first spires of the Capitol came into view in the distance, and still not a soul had appeared in my carriage. It seemed the dining set was purely for show, because no food was served. A few times I considered going to find someone, Manius, the escorts, my supposed mentor. I knew from my training that we should be watching the televised repeats of the other Reapings but I didn't move from my seat. Watching my fellow tributes get reaped wasn't going to change who I was in that Arena with. I didn't want to see any more of the people I was going to have to kill than was necessary. I doubted that the sight of a shaking and crying twelve year old walking up onto the stage and hiding behind their mentor was going to make me feel bad about what had to be done, but I still had no desire to watch it.

I put my mind to better use as the Capitol solidified in front of me, buildings of gold and silver materialising from the barren lands around. I thought of every strategy lesson from my years of training. I ran through fights in my head, imagined all the weapons that could possibly be at my disposal. I contemplated the conditions of the Arena what I would be comfortable with and how I could survive those I wasn't. I wasn't too worried about my survival skills. There were some students in the Centre who could kill someone in a second with a sword, but abandoned in the woods they wouldn't have lasted a day. Well those students hadn't been selected for a reason. I had proved again and again that I could not only survive alone in the wilderness, but that I could emerge with a fresh kill in my arms.

As I was considering rising to take a closer look at the view that was speeding towards me I heard the sound of the door slide open behind. I spun around and stared at the tall, lean woman that was walking through. I didn't know her but I instantly identified her as my mentor. She was definitely not a Capitol person, though her hair and nails were far too perfect for her to have spent much time in District 2 recently. She had shoulder length dark brown hair that wasn't either silky or frizzy. It sort of cascaded around her shoulders in a wild cloud. Despite the deliberateness of her appearance, there was something inherently wild about her, and I watched her warily as I pondered this, pulling a cold look onto my features automatically.

"Oh don't look at me like that, save your aggression for the other tributes," she said contemptuously, throwing me a disapproving glance before stalking forwards and throwing herself into a chair. She looked to be about twenty five but I couldn't immediately place her from my memory of our winners which was odd.

"When did you win?" I asked bluntly, uncrossing my arms. She threw me another sideways look and leant forwards, plucking a grape from a bowl on the table.

"My name is Ramona and I have the-" she gave me a scathing look up and down, "-_immense_ please of being your mentor."

"You didn't answer my question."

She smiled bitterly and popped the grape in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "I won the 60th Games," she said dismissively before pointing a finger at me. "You know, I was surprised when they told me I had a seventeen year old this year. It's quite interesting. I bet they hated you in the Training Centre, didn't they?" Her eyes were intent and gleaming and I wasn't sure whether she was secretly laughing at me or not.

Feeling ruffled by her intense gaze, but determined not to reveal it, I shrugged nonchalantly and looked out the window again. The Capitol was much closer now. So close that I could make out little moving figures on the bridges, almost like ants. "They'll get over it when I win," I said.

Ramona plucked another grape and tossed it playfully in her hands as she rose to her feet. "We need to work on your people skills," she said, walking towards the door. Apparently my discussion with my mentor were already over.

"What about them?" I asked bristling as she walked away. I already knew that she was going to be near to no help for me in that Arena. I'd just have to hope that she could show interest long enough to find me a sponsor if I needed one.

She paused and threw me a look over her shoulder, her eyes cold and hard now. "You don't have any."

* * *

I hated the way everyone here jostled and shouted to each other. The second that we got off the train we were immediately surrounded by a blur of colour and movement as the crowd pressed in around us. All the way into the Tributes Tower and through the corridors to the Remake Centre it was the same. People pushed and grasped at me, causing me to hiss and growl at them instinctively. They only seemed to like this more, pulling their hands back with little squeals of delight and clutching at their friends. It all confused me. Never before had I seen so many people and certainly never dressed like this. The modern decorations of the buildings were more similar to the familiarity of the Training Centre than the train carriage had been, but they were still too lavish to feel like home.

I snarled at my prep team as they tried to tug my hair into rolls. They didn't seem as phased by it though as the outside people had been. Perhaps they were used to dealing with angry and vicious District 2 teenagers because when I tried to pull the pins from my hair one of them simply reached out and gave my hand a sharp smack. I bared my teeth at her and she raised her eyebrows.

"This one's going to be fun to watch," she commented dryly to her friend, talking about me as if I was just some object in the room. No matter how much I glared at them they didn't seem to care, and that only made me angrier. My stylist, a man who introduced himself as Cerulean, watched them all with eagle sharp eyes, clucking his tongue as he inspected me like one of his mannequins.

Before long I found myself standing next to Manius in a fluster of people moving around us and tugging at our clothes. The short time I had spent here had already left me completely exhausted and I'd taken to glaring angrily at everyone around me only growling occasionally when they touched me too much.

I could barely move in the tight silver-grey dress they had shoved me into. It clung to my body in a way that nothing ever had before and made me feel uncomfortable the way people's eyes kept roaming over me. My hair had been twisted painfully into a circlet of braids and the prep team had had to forcibly hold me down as one of them applied minimalist but striking black makeup to my eyes. I had caught my reflection in a window as I was ushered to the holding room and I had barely recognised myself.

Manius was dressed in a matching silver-grey tunic that set off his broad shoulders. When he stood, as he was now, with his arms folded across his chest, the muscles in his arms bulged menacingly. Combined with his dark brooding eyes and vicious glare I could see why a lot of the other tributes were shying around us and throwing us nervous glances. Although I had avoided the Reaping reruns I couldn't avoid my fellow tributes now. They mingled around us, some loud and calling out to their district partners across the crowd, but most standing in shivering silence, practically glued to their mentors side. My own mentor was nowhere to be seen.

There was the usual mix of pathetic looking weaklings from the outer districts and the annoyingly arrogant pair from District 1. Although we formed an Alliance with District 1 almost every year there was always an animosity between us. Their glamour and flawless golden beauty was at complete odds with our fierce and cold mentality. I watched with contempt as the girl flicked her hair over her shoulder and laughed irritatingly at something her mentor said and I knew that there was no way I could be in an alliance with her and not want to slit her throat on the spot. My hands were flexing against my sides now and I knew that if I had access to a weapon she would not be still breathing. Everything about her was grating.

"Please move this way," called a man with turquoise hair, motioning us towards a row of sleek black chariots. With difficulty I climbed up next to Manius into the second from the front. Seeing me struggle he held out a hand and after a moment hesitation I took it, pulling myself in next to him. His grip let go of my hand as soon as I was in and he looked away coldly. Gone was the boy who I had trained alongside for five years. He had pulled on his Career mask now and looked passed me as if I was any of the others. That was fine, I planned to do the same thing. There was no room for sentimentality here even if I had been capable of it.

Just before our chariot was due to move our prep team rushed forwards, climbing up gracefully on the wheels. I flinched away from them, glaring suspiciously, but their arms were only full of a shimmering fabric.

"Turn around," one of them barked and I just stared at her with hostility. She sighed and gestured to Manius, who leant over and turned his back to her willingly. How could he have so much trust?

To two little hooks near his collar she clipped one end of the fabric. As she stepped back it shimmered down in a wave to hang loosely about his body. It was almost completely see through except it was speckled with grey-silver specks that caught the light as he moved and threw a sparkle of steely sparks dancing around him. It looked like he was engulfed in a cloud of glinting steel specs. Despite my hatred of the showiness of the Capitol I found myself admiring the effect. It was almost mesmerising, the way the silver shifted and rippled seemingly from thin air. Without realising the other prep team had come up behind me and I felt them clip the same onto my back. I spun around but was already attached, and the cape flew out around me as I span, sending a dangerously glinting cloud around me.

Manius was staring at my cape as transfixed as I had been on his. We were both jolted from our thoughts as the carriage started forward and I was forced to grab for the railing.

We rolled our way down a long passage, the midnight black horses in front of us clipping along neatly behind the District 1 carriage.

Before us two large doors opened and a wave of noise hit me. It was the sound of thousands of voices screaming and crying out and whistling as the first tributes emerged into the Capitol. As we went under the heavy beam over the door I ducked instinctively, though it was far too tall to get me, and then looked up, my eyes widening as I took in the myriad of moving colours and patterns. Thousands of Capitol people rose in stands either side of us, dressed in every colour imaginable. It was such a severe contrast to the simple black that I was used to that my eyes began to ache as I tried to take them all in. Halfway down I saw the couple in front of us lifting their hands, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd and I remembered that we were supposed to interact. No matter how much I despised these Capitol people we had a game to play, and that involved trying to win them over. But there was no way I would flutter my fingers and smile seductively like the stupid District 1 girl. I looked around the audience, fixing them with my most vicious glare and raised my arm in the air beside me. I refused to wave but they didn't seem to mind. One thing I remembered from training was that the Capitol loved ferocity and what scared them as much as they loved flirty little idiots like the one ahead of me. I didn't have to seduce them to make them love me, inspiring a spine tingling and delicious fear would do just well enough too.

It seemed to take a hundred years to reach the end of the screaming crowds. The muscles in my arm were beginning to ache by the time our carriage jerked to the side and I saw that the others were doing the same, fanning out around a central podium.

As I watched a hush fell across the stands behind me and it made me shiver. They had been so loud a second ago and I wondered what could possibly make them change so suddenly. My question was answered a second later as a small man with a white beard appeared behind the podium. I looked up at him and he ran his eyes over each of the tributes. I don't know whether it was the same with each tribute, but for a second our eyes locked and I felt shards of ice down my spine as I was exposed to his scrutinising gaze. I knew this man. The man that could make the entire stadium fall silent; the man that could command an entire country at war with itself; the man who controlled the Hunger Games. President Snow. He gave the audience a carniverous smile that was deeply disturbing and stepped up to the microphone.

"Welcome to the Capitol, tributes."

* * *

_Ramona means "protecting hands"_


	18. Chapter 18

**There is a very important Authors Note at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

I hated the Capitol. Everything about it was wrong. The way the people looked at me and the way they seemed enamoured by my attempts to growl and bite at them only drove me to frustration. The food tasted strange and the furniture was uncomfortable.

Only when I followed Manius into the training room was I able to let out a breath of relief. I hadn't even realised how tense my body had been until I walked along the training mats and eyed the weapons displays against the far wall. My hands were itching to wrap around the handle of a blade again. Yesterday my body had been idle for the first day in over five years and already I could feel the energy tingling through my limbs, desperate to escape.

I only half listened as the head trainer went through the list of rules. I was too busy running my eyes over the other tributes, sizing them up and wondering if any of their nervous, quaking frames held particular talent.

The boy and the girl from District 1 had proven to be just as annoying as I suspected. And their names! The girl had flounced up after the parade and introduced herself as Allure, and her partner as Luxor. They both had silky golden hair. Luxor looked me up and down with deep blue eyes- I scowled at him- and Allure fluttered long eyelashes as Manius, temporarily hiding eyes that were a startling pale green-blue. I'd never seen anyone with eyes like that before, like the colour of perfect ice. With sly amusement I watched Manius stare her down till she was forced to turn away pouting. Little did she know her charms weren't going to work on him, not when there was a beautiful red head waiting for him at home.

As I scanned the room I counted the other districts off in my head. Both District 3 were young, possibly under 15, and they watched everything around them with large, nervous eyes. I dismissed both of them as a threat immediately. District 4, the optional Career district was another matter. I had overheard that they were both eighteen, making me the youngest Career this year. The boy, Adrian, wall as tall and broad as Manius and Luxor, but he didn't look particularly bright. The girl was another matter. Lupa, Allure had called her. As I watched her I thought the name was quite fitting, there was something very wolf-like about her. Not in the way that I had compared Tacita to the beautiful creature. Lupa reminded me of a fierce, battle-weary clan leader that had scars over his greying body and a murderous glint in its eye. She was tall and lean, with dark features and eyes that bore straight through me. I was instantly nervous of her, and made a mental note to keep a very close eye on her. I had a feeling she was going to be my biggest threat.

Districts 5 and 6 were unremarkable. They all seemed to be the typical outer districts, thin and weary faces, and trembling from the minute they entered the training room. As the first training session progressed I kept an eye on all of them, knowing better than most that appearances could be deceiving, but none of them showed any sign that they even knew which end of the sword to pick up.

Standing between a tall blonde boy from District 12 and Lupa at one of the training stations I watched with strategic interest as a small, compact girl from District 7 displayed her talent. She hurled three fair sized axes at a target and sunk two of them into the soft wood with a threatening thock. She was no Career but she had potential to be a threat. I told myself that to for comfort's sake I should probably try and get rid of her as fast as possible.

"Nice job, Resin," said one of the timid creatures from District 5 as the girl passed us. Resin looked up and flashed a nervous smile.

"Thanks Cora."

The rest of them were completely unnoticeable, except for the boy from District 12. He introduced himself to me as if he thought we could be friends. Raziel.

"Isn't that the name of an angel?" I asked indifferently, giving him a cold look. He looked surprised and withdrew the hand he had offered me.

"Yeah," he ran the hand through his golden hair, making it stick up in tufts. "Not many people know that." He set amber coloured eyes on me and I stared back, trying not to show how uncomfortable he made me. There was something about him that was disarmingly polite. I wondered if there was an act there. He seemed like he was too pleasant and friendly to be real, given the circumstances. I wanted to step up to him and place my blade against his throat and remind him that they were all going to be dead in a few days. But I didn't. Growing uncomfortable under his gaze I spun on my heel and marched over to the bow and arrow station, ripping a bow from the hands of a tiny 12 year old and loading it with a sleek, silver arrow.

* * *

Ramona threw herself into a seat opposite me and looked at me critically. "Nice to see you've still got that charming scowl on your face," she said dryly.

"Oh, it changes," remarked Manius, gliding into the room and taking a seat next to me. He reached for an apple and bit into it noisily. "Since we got here she's been trying hissing and growling too...I think she even bit one of her prep team."

Ramona gave the first laugh I'd heard from her. She tapped her fingertips together and nodded. "Well, perhaps we can work with that. An image is an image." I stared coldly at her and wondered when she turned from a fierce District 2 tribute into one of their stupid Capitol minions who cared about _image_.

Then her smile snapped into a glare again and she leant forward, suddenly business like. "Now. Let's talk alliances. Obviously District 1, and most likely District 4, though that boy seems a little thick..." she trailed off as she caught the look that Manius threw me. I could have killed him for that. He'd told me he'd keep our conversation earlier that day to himself. But it didn't slip passed Ramona and she pointed at me.

"What? What was that?" she snapped. I glared at the table so it was Manius who was forced to answer.

"Enobaria doesn't uhh...doesn't want an alliance," he said hesitantly, probably wondering who he had to worry about a killer attack from, Ramona or myself. Ramona let out a snort and leant back in her chair.

"Right. Doesn't want an alliance," she mimicked sarcastically. I lifted my eyes then and glared at her furiously. My hands were scrunched in the fabric of my training shirt, wishing they were wrapped around a blade instead.

"I don't!" I confirmed. "I neither want nor need an alliance."

Realising I was serious she pressed her fingertips to the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes in exasperation. "It's not your choice you midget," she said eventually in a tight voice. "You're a Career, therefore you join the Career alliance. Can you get that into your tiny brain?" I ignored the insults, she was only trying to bait me, and instead raised my chin defiantly.

"No," I stated firmly. "I don't _do_ alliances. I don't trust any of them."

"You're not meant to trust any of them!" she exploded suddenly rising rapidly to her feet and slamming a fist on the table. "They're going to kill you! But you join an alliance because it is what the Capitol wants and you smile while you do it, got it?" We glared at each other furiously for a few moments. She was breathing hard, as if she had just run a long distance, and her chest rose and fell drastically. But she was not going to scare me into submission. All I saw before me was a pathetic person who had been weak enough to let this place turn her into one of them. She'd forgotten what it meant to be from District 2, what it truly meant to be a Career. All she cared about was how it looked and whether it would please the Capitol. So I rose to my feet as well, though I was considerable shorter than she was.

"I will not join your stupid Career alliance," I spat. "But if it's a good show you're worried about, _don't_." I gave her my cruellest smile. "I will give those pathetic Capitol audiences _exac_tly what they want." Turning on my feel I stormed from the room, not giving her a chance to rebut.

* * *

The interviews were their own kind of painful. It required me to leave me comfort zone of the training rooms again and be held down and forced into ridiculous a ridiculous dress by my prep team. I was fairly certain that when I entered the Arena I was already going to have bruises from where they pinned my to the table as they painted more black makeup on me again. What they did was fairly similar to the first time, but this time my outfit was completely different. When they eventually let me go I surveyed the result and despite my fury I had to admit that it could be worse. They had put me in a sleek black dress that hung in ripples of black satin down to the ground. It made me look older and the black accented my hair and eyes perfectly.

I scowled at myself in the mirror and flattened my hands over invisible creases in the dress.

"You know, I think she may actually not hate it," one of the prep team remarked quietly to another and I turned around, hissing at them. They broke into grins, as unperturbed as ever, and looked extremely pleased with themselves. "And the baring of the teeth really just adds to it all don't you think?"

The blue haired idiot who interviewed me seemed to think the same because his eyes practically lit up as I walked on stage.

"Enobaria from District 2, ladies and gentlemen!" he cried, moving towards me to take my hand. I yanked my hand back and snarled at him but it only made him grin wider. These Capitol people were really getting on my nerves. They didn't seem to understand that I could kill any of them where they stood. They seemed to consider my viciousness to be something cute, as if I was an animal performing for their entertainment. If only I had a knife, I'd show them all.

As I sat in the chair and glared out at the audience I wondered how beautiful I could make it if I killed the host in front of them all. They were so entertained by killing and bloodthirstiness, I wondered if that extended to their own kind. I was tempted to find out, but then my interview was over before I could. I had given curt, short replies and jerked away from any attempt he made to touch me but it didn't seem to make them love me any less. As I rose gracefully to my feet, feeling the black fabric slip down my legs, they all started screaming and cheering.

"Good luck in the Arena, Enobaria," the host said good naturedly. He leant in towards me conspiratorially and I wondered how quickly I could snap his neck. "I know there are more than a few people here tonight who will be keeping a _very_ close eye on you."

I gave him a cold look. "I don't need luck." It only made the crazy Capitol cheer harder.

* * *

When I returned to the District 2 Suite than evening Ramona was waiting for me. I took one look at her and groaned.

"What now?" I said, walking into the room and flinging myself down into one of the seats. "I did as you asked...well, I didn't kill anyone at least." She didn't seem to find my comment humorous but she wasn't glaring at me with quite the same intensity that she normally did. I sat up straight again and looked at her warily. "What is it?"

"Your mother is dead," she said bluntly, slipping into a seat opposite me. She seemed as awkward as I felt and I guessed this wasn't the kind of news she liked delivering to tributes she barely knew. I blinked at her.

"Oh." There didn't really seem to be anything else to say. I didn't feel anything at her words. Maybe I should have. She was my mother after all. But she had been worse than a stranger to me. I didn't even wonder how it had happened. My first thought instead was of Clove. I looked up at Ramona. "Did they say anything about...my sister?"

She was watching me intently but I ignored it. I was getting used to it now, the way she studied me. After a pause she nodded. "She's staying with your neighbour."

"Okay." I rose to my feet and saw the look of surprise on her face that I was going to end the conversation there, without even asking her how it had happened. I didn't really care and besides, considering how much of a shadow she'd looked the last time I saw her I wouldn't be surprised if she had simply faded away. Normally I suspected that the night before entering the Arena final words of wisdom, or luck, or even apology were passed between mentors and tributes. I didn't know what kind of interactions Manius had had with his mentor but they didn't seem to hate each other as much as Ramona and I did. There would definitely be no such advice from her, so without another word I walked passed her and disappeared into my own room, shutting the door softly behind me.

Perhaps she thought I should be sad about the news she had given me. Perhaps she thought me only more wrong because I wasn't. Perhaps I was. As I readied myself for my last night sleep before entering the Arena I didn't even give my mother another thought.

* * *

_Lupa means wolf**  
**_

_Adrian means of the Adriatic sea  
_

_Allure means to entice or attract  
_

_Raziel is an arcangel  
_

_Cora means maiden  
_

_Resin is a sticky substance excuded by some trees and plants, notably pine trees_

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**A/N: An important message dear readers. **

**Firstly, I've noticed that enthusiasm for the story has waned recently. I'm hoping that is because it is nearly Christmas, and the end of the year, and all the craziness that comes with that and not because no one cares anymore. ****Secondly, I have some very intense family matters happening in my life at the moment.**

**For those two reasons Blood, Snow and Steel will be going on hiatus until mid-January. Do not fear, the rest is written so it will definitely get finished. I just would rather upload when I know people can read it. If there's anyone, even one reader, who really desperately wants me to continue now I will, but if you're happy to wait a month or so then forever hold your peace. **

**I do hope to see you all back again in January and I hope for those of you who celebrate it, that you have an enjoyable Christmas. **

**Lu**


	19. Interlude 2: Junia and Manius

**INTERLUDE 2: JUNIA AND MANIUS**

* * *

**When**: Two days before the 67th Reaping

**Where**: Junia's house

* * *

She was expecting it when she heard a confident knock on the front door, and dropped the blanket she had been shaking out. It collapsed into a rippling pile of fabric at her feet as she turned away and hurried through the small rooms and narrow corridors of the house. She didn't mind growing up in the quarry workers cottage that belonged in her father's family. She'd been in the larger, stable, neat houses which were inhabited by the fighters of the district but she would always feel more at home in the cosy rooms of the house whose walls shook every time the wind blew. Manius had always liked her house too. Although his was one of the nice, pale stone ones on the western side of town, the small patch of neat grass out the front identifying his parents are peaceworkers, he spent more time lounging on the quaking back porch of her house on the other side of the district than in his own. With his mother a senior strategic officer at the Nut, and his father a respected peacekeeper it had never been questioned that he would train for the Hunger Games at the Centre. Junia, on the other hand, had surprised everyone, even herself, when she'd been selected from the class at the Junior Centre. Apparently she'd demonstrated a drive and skill which had marked her as a potential tribute or peacekeeper, though she had no idea how considering she'd been eleven years old and had never even considered the life of anything other than one like her mother's.

As she opened the door, already smiling shyly at him, she thought how it was ironic that in the end they'd offered her all the opportunities the district had for bettering her position, securing her future, yet she wished for nothing more than to live the rest of her life in this tiny, crumbling cottage, working long, hard hours to earn the food placed on the table but doing it all with him. She'd thought it was stupid to even think she could be in love with him. She had been fifteen when the idea first fluttered into her head, into her heart, and she'd reprimanded herself firmly. For one, Careers did not fall in love. For two, she had been fifteen and she hadn't known what she wanted from the world. For three...there had been every chance then that they would have had to walk into the Arena together and watch each other die, at best. For all the mental scolding in the world though the thought had buried itself under skin and she must have shown it at least some because eventually her mother had worked the truth out of her. She'd smiled and brushed her daughter's auburn hair behind her ear.

"You're never too young to love," she had answered solemnly and Junia trusted her because she knew that her mother, like most of the poor people of their class, had had the fortune to have married for love.

Since she was twelve Junia had felt as if she had a foot in each world. Few people crossed between the two distinct groups of the district and yet she trained with and befriended those who had had the luxury of adequate food, healthcare, income and security their whole lives but at the end of the day she returned to the streets of her home where bone skinny children with dirt dark skin ran almost naked in the streets and played with a piece of cloth tied around a stick. At first she'd hated this dual life, because she believed she didn't belong in either world. At the Centre she could not feel kinship with the arrogant students who believed the world owed them a good life and at home they looked at her silently, analysing her lean, muscular body and the healthy shine of her hair with eyes that bore equal amount of joy and envy. That was why she had befriended Enobaria and Manius. It really had nothing to do with the fact they shared almost all their training classes together. No, it was because neither of them quite fit where they were either. She knew some of Enobaria's story, enough to know that she was worlds apart from the other students even though she had one of the strongest lineages of the Centre. She was a living example that privilege did not mean happiness. And Manius. He didn't fit perfectly into his world simply because he was so eager and determined to fit into Junia's. Needless to say his parents were not impressed with his choice of girl. He was strong, handsome and one of the best fighters of the Centre, he could have had any of the girls he liked really, and yet he had made it clear he didn't want anyone other than her.

The thought made her smile a little broader as she opened the door further and stepped back to let him in. She wasn't one for pride, but she could never help the little bubble of pure joy that swelled within her at the way he would look at her, as he was now, as if she were more important than the sun in the sky.

"Evening, Junebug," he said with all the casual charm of a good looking eighteen year old boy. She rolled her eyes at him but laughed as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close to his body, bringing her lips to his like there was nowhere else to go. The door slipped from her fingers and she let it swing shut unnoticed by the two of them. For this moment it was easy to forget why he was here tonight. It was easy to forget where he would be in two days time and it was easy to forget where he could be in only a few short weeks. She'd worked extremely hard not to think about that last one, though at night it slipped in, twisting through her dreams like poison.

She tasted her despair in his kiss and pulled away, her smile gone. Seeing her expression he looked away from her, silently releasing her and she guessed that he had been working as hard as she had to avoid thinking about the future and what it might hold, or not hold. "Are your parents here tonight?" he asked quietly, walking further into the house, perfectly at home. He peered into the kitchen.

"No. My father is working an evening shift at the quarry, they're blasting tomorrow morning, and Mama is working late preparing the Square for the Reaping. Marcellus is with my aunt for the night." She didn't mention the glance her mother had given her before she left for work, a knowing look that made Junia suspect she knew exactly who would walk through their front door while Junia had the house to herself. Her parents loved Manius almost as much as she did because he was friendly and charming and he didn't ever act like they were beneath him as so many of his class did. Marcellus, her eight year old brother, loved him too because Manius was tall and strong and knew how to use a sword. Like most young boys it had never taken a great deal to impress Marcellus. Since Junia had come home with the announcement of that year's tributes they had been shying around her like they expected her to break at the mere mention of his name. When Marcellus pestered her one evening about when Manius would next be coming her mother had hushed him almost instantly. When she'd ushered him into the next room under false pretences Junia could still hear her words as she explained to Marcellus in a low voice why he couldn't talk about Manius anymore. She'd never hated anyone but in that minute she hated her parents for acting as if he were already dead. She knew they were practical people, you had to be to survive and raise a family on the edges of the District 2 quarries, but she wished that just this time they could let the pragmatism fall aside and believe as strongly as she did that he would win and come home to her. Though even she knew that her conviction likely came from a mental inability to consider the alternative.

That evening she suspected they were both going to lie to each other and to themselves, so she pulled a smile onto her face as she teasingly pushed Manius down the narrow corridor of the cottage and out onto the back porch. It was her favourite place, and his, because it opened out onto the wilderness and from there you looked out over the gentle rolling hills spotted with pine trees. It was easy to believe that the world, and life, could be infinite when you gazed at that view.

He looked dubiously down at the blanket which unsurprisingly hadn't magically laid itself out. She moved forward to fix it but he beat her to it, crouching down and picking up the edges. With surprising grace he shook it out and let the fabric settle and drift gently back to the wooden boards, not a crease marring its surface. He turned to her, looked her in the eye and smiled. "Perfect," he said.

Just as she had when she was fifteen and even sillier than she was now she blushed under his intense gaze and ducked her head, moving forwards. Fitting perfectly they folded themselves onto the blanket and she rested her head on his shoulder while he wrapped an arm around her back. This was comfortable, they'd fitted together perfectly for years now and she knew him better than she knew herself. It was really only here that they allowed themselves to show so much of what they felt. It wasn't that they hid it exactly at the Centre, there were no specific rules against students 'dating' or whatever it was, simply because it just never happened, but somehow on an unspoken agreement, there, their feelings turned into silent, swift glances and half hidden smiles.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. It took her several moment to place what he was referring to but when she did surprise was chased away by a great weight of despair that settled on her chest. It pushed down on her heart and made it hard to breathe. She closed her eyes and took four deep breaths, forcing them to fall in between his so their heart beats fitted to each other.

"It won't change anything," she said quietly. She hadn't expected him to raise the issue of the Hunger Games and she realised now that he had she didn't want to talk about it. What she said was true. There was nothing to be changed even if he wanted to. There was no more training to be done, he was as prepared as he was ever going to be. The quarry raised pragmatist in her knew all these facts, but it didn't stop the pain. "Can we just-" she broke off and opened her eyes again, glancing up to where a blanket of stars covered them. The world was large enough for miracles to happen. She took another deep breath and felt his chest rise beneath her too and knew their heart beats were now in time with each other. "Can we just have tonight?" she asked in a small voice that didn't sound anything like the fierce, fighting student she had spent so many years becoming.

She felt him shift and lifted her head slightly, expecting him to protest, to insist they addressed the issue so it could be out of the way. It was his style. He hated things being left unsaid, sitting heavy and uncomfortable in the silence between people. It was one of the reasons she loved him- yes, she readily admitted she loved him now. Ruefully she lifted her eyes to his, prepared for the words that needed to be said, and so she was surprised when she felt the words vanquished as his lips found hers again. Without a second hesitation she kissed him back just as passionately. Perhaps if she imprinted the memory of herself on his body he would somehow be protected, he would always find the strength to come home again. They shared no more words because, really, what could have been said with empty letters that could not be said in their burning kisses, in her hands wrapped around his neck as she claimed him, in his forehead pressed against hers, feeling their breath hot and frantic against feverish skin as they moved together for the first and last time.

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**A/N: Wow I think I accidently guilt tripped you all into reviewing. That was not my intention at all I promise, but it was absolutely lovely to realise how many people are actually invested in this story. I had no idea! So thank you, for both reading and reviewing. Although I write for the pleasure of writing, and not for the number of reviews, it is encouraging to see people's response and all last week they brought a smile to my face.**

**I will continue, of course, with so many people asking me to. After this interlude we're into the Games so it feels appropriate to finish with...**

**Let the Games begin!**


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning I surveyed the Arena outfit critically. It was white, something I had never seen in an Arena outfit before, and it was thick. My hands ran over the fur lining with a sinking heart.

"It's going to be cold," I murmured to myself. We had cold nights in winter in District 2 and it snowed in the mountains, but hardly even in the towns. The white of the camouflage made be almost positive that there was going to be some snow in this Arena.

I played with the jacket, finding all the pockets, and pulling the fur lined hood over my head. It cut out all sound around me so I told myself I couldn't use that unless I was really desperate. I couldn't afford to lose a single of my senses, even for a moment.

"I hope you know how to make snowangels," remarked a voice behind me and turned around to see Ramona leaning in the doorway. She nodded at the heavy boots that were still sitting by the bed. "Looks like you're in for a cold one."

I sniffed and pulled the hood down again, stalking over to the bed and pulling on the boots. "I can handle it," I said dismissively.

She rolled her eyes. "What 's your district token?"

I froze in the act of doing up the laces and slowly straightened to face her, pulling my hair over one shoulder. "I don't have one," I said, pretending to fix on the mirror and fix my hair. My voice was nonchalant but I was waiting for her cruel laughter. It didn't come. When I risked a glance back at her she was looking at me with a sombre expression.

"Everyone in that Arena needs something to remind them of home, something to make them want to come back," she said with a surprisingly kind edge to her voice. It was also quite possibly the first wise thing she had told me. Up until now her mentor advice had mainly consisted of yelling at me and telling me I was going to die.

An image of Clove flashed into my mind and I understood what she meant. But I shook my head. "I don't need to be reminded of home and I don't need a token to tell me what I'm fighting for."

She paused silently for a few moments and then nodded once. "Okay, on your own head midget." That sounded more like the advice I was used to. She peeled herself from the doorframe and without another word- not so much as a goodbye or good luck- she loped off down the corridor.

Standing up again I took a deep breath and reminded myself of all the reasons why I was going to win.

* * *

The coldness hit me before anything else and I knew with even more conviction that this was going to be harder than I'd hoped. Rising smoothly into place on my podium I immediately flicked my eyes around me, desperate to find something familiar. I was facing the smooth pale silver Cornucopia and on either side of me stretched a ring of podiums with nervous looking tributes. Four places to my left I could see Manius, his shoulders hunched forwards and his gaze fixed on the Cornucopia in front of him. I pulled my eyes from him and looked around further. Ahead of me, on the other side of the silver horn rose a sheer face of rock. I followed it with my eyes and felt a sharp inhale of ice cold air stab my chest as I saw tall ice capped peaks towering over us. It would be unfortunate to be on that side of the circle, with nowhere to run behind. The mountain stretched along as far as I could see in front of me. To my left and right stretched away snow covered plains ending in gentle hills in the distance, and as I let my eyes skim I realised that there didn't appear to be any patch of ground that was not covered in snow. I was surrounded by a world of white, even the sky was a pale downy grey. At the thought I flicked around, my braided ponytail flicking me as I did, and surveyed the landscape behind me. The space immediately behind me was completely flat and barren. It stretched away into absolutely nothing and I felt a twinge of concern. That was almost as bad as the sheer wall of rock. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Stop it. You don't need anywhere to hide.

I spoke to myself firmly in my head and the lecture seemed to help, though I knew that fighting or not I'd still need shelter and the barreness of the land behind me lacked that. I flicked to look around on my other side and, with a leap of relied hat defied my sten lecture, my eyes fell on a landscape much more familiar. Trees. Tall dark green trees stretched away. They were covered in snow, unlike those as home, but there were patches of blackness between their trunks that told me some of the ground at least remained uncovered by snow. Irrationally, the thought allowed me to breathe again.

I would need shelter and this was where I was going to find it. I had made powerful enemies in rejecting the Career pack and I knew without a doubt that I was going to be their first target. I could take any of them on, I was sure of that, but against a group I was vulnerable. Until I could figure out the best strategy for killing and survival, and until I could get supplies together and ensure I wouldn't starve or freeze to death, I was going to need to find cover.

I looked back to the Cornucopia and saw that the giant counter was town to the last 10 seconds. Loud beeps sounded around us, echoing strangely off the mountains. I flexed my muscles, trying to rid them of the cold that crept in even with my fur lined suit. The air against my face and hands was colder than I could ever have imagined it to be. It bit into my skin like a pair of teeth. This Arena was not in my favour. Quickly I tried to run my mind over my limited knowledge of the country, trying to decide if there were any districts that would be particularly at home here. I came up blank. I was out of time anyway. The clock was down to the last three seconds and I tensed my legs, leaning forwards. I knew speed was going to be my greatest strength until I got my hands on some weapons, and I planned on being at the Cornucopia before any of the other Careers. My heart pounded in against my ribs in a dizzying mixture of adrenalin and anticipation. This was it.

The final siren split through the crystal cold air and I was springing immediately from my platform. Running through the snow was harder than I had anticipated. I immediately sunk half way up my calves and it slowed me down. I ignored the cold burning in my legs and pushed myself forwards, my eyes locked on the Cornucopia. There were various weapons and boxes scattered around. I needed to find my knives, but anything would do for now.

I was the first from my side to arrive at the boxes and I desperately threw myself towards them, my eyes scanning for the familiar small shape of my knives. I was craving seeing them, craving the reassuring feel of their cool handles under my fingertips. I felt exposed without them. My eyes still scanning for metal I grabbed a survival pack marked with a blood red X and slung it onto my back.

I heard a noise behind me and spun around, instantly taking a fighting stance. It was Manius but he appeared to ignore me, looking for his own weapons. In the distance I could see a few tributes already fighting, apparently trying to take each other down hand to hand. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair and knew one of them was Allure. A few others had taken off in the opposite direction and were headed towards the woods or the hills.

I spun back to my search and almost immediately my eyes fell upon a black belt. Steel glinted invitingly at me and I yelped, jumping towards it. My fingers clutched at the belt, already pulling two knives from their sheaths as I slung it over my shoulder. On a whim I reached out and grabbed a glinting weapon that was somewhere between a long dagger and a very short sword. Its blade was bigger than I normally handled but something told me to grab it. I slid it into a loop on the belt of my outfit. Confidence flooded through my body like warmth as my fingers wrapped around the handles of my knives and my eyes were already searching for a tribute.

Time to start killing.

A dark haired boy with a number 5 on his arm appeared then around the side of the Cornucopia and I had sent my knife towards him without even thinking. It hit him in the chest and he went straight down, crimson blood spurting from the wound and spreading boldly across the pure white snow. I dashed towards him across the snow that was already staining red. I ripped the first knife from his chest as I brought my second knife down across his throat, making sure I did the job properly. My eyes were fixed on the crimson snow and I didn't even bother looking into his eyes as he died.

There was too much happening around me for the satisfaction and rush of the kill to enter my body fully and I was already turning, setting my eyes upon Luxor. He was delving into a box and didn't see me as I raised my arm to throw. I loved the idea of taking down fellow Careers in the Bloodbath. A sharp cry from too near me caused me to jump sideways, just in time as a spear came towards me. It struck the side of the Cornucopia but I was paying no attention to it, I was too focused on the thrower. Allure didn't appreciate me going after her District partner and she was raising a short sword towards me. I ducked aside as she swung and gave her a sharp kick to the back of her ribs. From behind me I heard Luxor's bellow that meant he'd seen us fighting. Allure was rounding on me again and I threw one quick look over to Luxor. I was good but I knew my limits, I couldn't take on the two of them coming at me from different directions, both with some form of sword. I considered throwing the knife in my hand in Allure's direction but decided it would be a waste of the weapon as she could probably easily duck it from this distance. I spun and took off back towards my platform. The snow around the Cornucopia was already spattered with crimson blood and I dodged sprawled bodies in my dash. Some of them were still twitching and moaning and I had to resist the urge to stop and drive a blade through their forms.

I hated having to flee, but we had been taught that sometimes staying and fighting a battle you were going to lose was worse. Domitius' words rang in my head as I ploughed through the snow. _Your aim is not only battle, it is survival, remember that_. From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of movement and whipped my head around. It was the tiny figure of the boy from District 7. He was one of the three twelve year olds in this year's Games. I didn't hesitate. Even as I ran I spun the other knife around and sent it towards him. I heard his cry but didn't allow myself to pause and take delight from the sight of his blood spreading across the snow. I could hear shouts behind me and suspected that the Bloodbath was almost over, that the Careers were gathering and most importantly that I was going to be their first target.

I was headed straight for the woods when suddenly two figure loomed out of nowhere from the whiteness. I skidded to a halt, snow spraying around me and my chest aching with each laboured, frozen breath. The camouflage of our suits was good and I had been so focused on the trees that I had almost missed them. It was only the bright stripe of blood that crossed the snow that made me see them in time.

At the sound of my approach Lupa looked up from her kill, her dark eyes set severely upon me. There was something about her gaze that made me feel like a trapped rabbit. She had such a predatory look about her and it wasn't helped by the fact that she was holding the writhing body of the tiny girl from District 12. Her brunette hair had already come loose from its clips and it splayed out across her shoulders. Looking at her tiny child like body in Lupa's hands it was hard to believe she was even twelve years old. I tried not to see Clove in her lanky limbs and angular little arms that scrabbled at Lupa, who seemed oblivious to her prey's cries. A dark patch of blood was spreading across the front of the younger girl's top, the source of the bright stripe of blood on the snow. With a careless movement Lupa tossed the girl's body down on the ground, her eyes still on me. Almost as an afterthought she turned and drove a long spear through the contorting body until it was still. I had been frozen, watching her with calculated horror, only for a couple of seconds but it was all I needed to see. This girl was going to be my enemy.

There came another shout from behind me and I realised too late that I was now surrounded by Careers on two sides. Darting away from Lupa I took off across the flat patch of ground, hoping to arc back towards the trees where I knew I could get better cover.

I hadn't gone a dozen meters when suddenly the ground beneath me shuddered. A low rumble echoed around me and I stumbled but kept going, my mind instantly thinking of earthquakes that I had seen the Gamemakers inflict upon the Arena before. It was a bit early for them to do that though, surely there would still be entertainment enough in the killing.

I kept going, turning slightly and making for the dark treeline ahead of me now. I could still hear the others behind me and threw a quick glance over my shoulder. Allure and Lupa were in front, Luxor a few meters behind shouting with delight. Manius was a little way behind them, an enormous sword clasped in his hand and swinging at his side. Behind him were two other figures, Adrian, Lupa's district partner and a boy who I vaguely recognised as District 6.

My concentration was thrown forwards again as the ground shifted another time. It wasn't an earthquake. A cracking sound like lightning a moment later confirmed my suspicions. There was a reason this patch was perfectly flat and bare. It wasn't a plain and this wasn't soil beneath the snow. I was running on ice; A frozen lake. There was another crack and I felt the ice give slightly beneath me, but it held. Looking behind me again I saw the others stumble slightly, Luxor falling to the ground but pushing himself up again almost instantly.

The ground rippled out from a point between us and this time it threw me to the ground as well. As I slammed into the snow, my bad wrist sending a streak up pain up my arm, I finally found the ice of the lake surface. It froze my fingertips where they touched it. I was already rolling onto my back, keeping one eye on the others. I needn't have worried about them attacking me while I was down. The air was filled with shouts and cries as they were thrown to the ground as well. As I scrambled back to my feet I saw a gap in the snow. I realised with horror that it wasn't just a crack in the snow, but the ice as well. A hint of pure clear blue, the colour of Allure's eyes was visible.

The ice had been strong enough to carry my small weight but the others had added too much pressure to it. It was cracking and threatening to suck us all down into the deadly cold water. It would surely be instant death for anyone who was caught in it.

I scrambled backwards, trying to put as much distance between myself and the cracking ice as possible. After a few hurried steps I paused, noticing that it was cracking away from me, towards the others. They seemed to be slower than me in noticing because Manius and the District 6 boy were still trying to climb to their feet.

"The ice! The ice! Run!" Luxor was screaming at the others a moment later, seeing what I had already noticed. He, Lupa, and Allure took off towards land, not even looking back at the others. I found myself willing Manius to get up too, even though I knew he had to die eventually.

It was the District 6 boy who wasn't fast enough. He stumbled again as he tried to scramble to his feet a second time and then let out a cry for help. It was stupid. None of them were going to come to his rescue as the ice beneath him disintegrated. I had made it to the cover of the trees on what I presumed was the lake's edge before I turned around again.

He had disappeared from my sight, until a splash of snow and water erupted and his arms appeared again. Briefly I wondered if he could swim. I guessed not as he vanished again, although it could have been the icy cold water already eating away at his limbs. A splitting scream filled the air as he appeared again and I saw now that it was not only the cold water eating away at him. Blood mingled with the ice and snow that sprayed up as some mutation ripped into him. I couldn't see clearly what it was but it made short work of him. The cries stopped completely a second later and then, just as suddenly, the lake was perfectly still and calm.

I waited for several minutes, catching my breath in the freezing air, and watching to see if he would rise again. There was no movement. Another one dead. I looked towards the far shore and saw that the others had all made it, and were waving their arms around at each other angrily. The sight gave me bitter pleasure as I turned away towards the trees. The darkness between their trunks was inviting, drawing me away from the world of unfamiliar snow and ice. Ducking below snow covered limbs I made my way deeper into the woods, knowing that further I got the safer I would be. I just needed somewhere to pause, take stock of what I had, and figure out the best approach of attack. I knew that I had personally taken down two tributes. Lupa had at least one. Out of the corner of my eye I had seen Manius dispose of two, Luxor one, and there was District 6 boy who I had just witnessed drowning. I would have to wait till the evening anthem to know exactly how many had been killed but for now the Bloodbath was over and the Games had well and truly begun.

* * *

**A/N: I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and all that it entails and that you enjoyed (well, liked?) the start of Enobaria's Games. **


	21. Chapter 21

Once within the forest it was easy to lose your sense of direction. I didn't know how far the woods stretched but I wanted to keep reasonably close to the centre of the Arena.

Darkness set in early with the heavily clouded sky and in the shelter of the trees it wasn't long before it was getting hard to see. It was dangerous. The forest was the main source of cover and I'm sure plenty of other tributes had taken shelter in here. That would be good or hunting, but it also meant it wouldn't be long before the Career pack decided to come hunting themselves. Even in the familiar environment of the woods I couldn't match a Career pack of five.

To my dismay I didn't come across any of the other tributes as I stalked through the trees, trying to get a lay of the land. Every now and then I'd catch a glimpse of the towering mountain tops through a break in the trees. If I kept that to my right I knew I would stay on track.

When I stumbled over a tree root because it was too dark to see the ground clearly I knew it was time to take shelter for the night. In the past I had seen night vision goggles placed in the Cornucopia, and there was a chance that the other Careers had got their hands on them and however good I was at surviving in the woods even I couldn't match that. Just as when I was twelve years old and killed my first deer my immediate instinct for safety was to climb a tree. I slung my supplies over my shoulders and nimbly scaled one of the trunks, picking a limb about 10 feet off the ground. It was rarely the human instinct to look up.

Although it was warmer within the trees it was still bitterly cold, and as soon as I ceased jogging through the trees it really struck me. The cold bit through the thick fur and turned each breath to pain in my lungs. I shook out my limbs and tried to wrap myself up into a little ball but it did little good. The constant shivering was exhausting and I knew that hypothermia was probably going to be the biggest killer in these Games. I'd have to keep myself moving through the day and I couldn't let myself succumb to exhaustion.

When the Capitol anthem played I looked up towards the sky but it was partly obscured by the tree tops. I needed to know how many were dead. Firmly tying my pack to the branch I quickly scaled the upper branches of the tree. As I perched on a thin branch I was glad that I was small. It had always been a point of weakness for me but just as with the ice on the lake it seemed I could use it to my advantage here.

The blue Capitol symbol faded from the black sky and I looked for the first tributes. The deaths of day one; the boy from District 5- into whose chest I had first sent my knife; the girl from District 6 who I think Manius had killed; the boy from 6 whose fate had been the monster in the lake; the little boy from 7 who was another one of mine; the boy from 8; the girl from 9; both from District 10; the boy from 11 who I'm fairly sure had been Luxor's; and finally the tiny, tumbling haired figure of the little girl from District 12 into whose body I had watched Lupa thrust a spear.

Ten. Ten dead on the first day. It wasn't the highest number it could have been, but it was enough. In my preparation I had watched one Games where 18 tributes were taken out in the Bloodbath. Then again, there had been another when only four had died on the first day. I shrugged and nimbly scaled my way back down the tree. As I tucked myself back into my nook against the trunk I told myself that the faster I found and killed the remainders, then the sooner this would be over. I had dreamed my whole life about these moments, and I was thrilled to finally be in the Arena, but I couldn't stop myself craving the moment it was over. It had already been a long ordeal, surviving the Capitol, and I wanted to go back to the familiarity of District 2. Being away had made me realise how much I had grown to depend on District 2. It may be hell, but at least it was familiar hell.

And I was already sick of being cold.

That night I dozed fitfully, tucked against the trunk of the tree. It was a combination of the cold and my hyperalertness that stopped me from resting. At one point during the night I was startled awake by a series of high pitched screams. They were quite a distance away but they ripped through me, causing an involuntary shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. I guessed the Career pack had found some sleeping victims and it sounded like they were having fun playing with their food.

When the sky began to lighten and I could again make out the ground below me I stretched my freezing limbs and hoped that this whole thing wasn't going to last weeks. For a moment I allowed myself to daydream of warm sunshine and steaming drinks.

I threw my pack down to the ground and a second later landed nimbly beside it on all fours. It was time to do some hunting of my own. I slung my bladebelt around my hips and pulled several knives free. I slipped one into a cuff at my wrist and kept another in my hand, spinning it lightly. It felt good to be back on the prowl.

* * *

It took me till what I guessed to be mid-afternoon before I even saw another tribute. Either I had been wrong about them hiding out in the woods or this year there were a lot that were excellent hiders. I was starting to grow frustrated and was contemplating moving back towards the Cornucopia when from the brush ahead of me a figure suddenly darted. She took off running away from me, clearly hoping that she could outrun me. My heart leapt and my whole body was flooded with adrenalin and I was after her a moment later.

I raced through the trees, darting around trunks and leaping over fallen logs. The air stabbed painfully at my lungs but it felt good to have my legs and arms pumping. Blood and adrenalin and the buzz of a potential kill raced through my body and made me oblivious to the scrapes and bruises and gashes I got as I whipped passed branches and scrambled through bushes. The girl was fast but she wasn't trained like I was and before long I knew she was tiring.

With a crash I saw her stumble over a bramble that wrapped itself around her ankle and I pounced, bringing myself down on top of her. She rolled over onto her back, arms and legs striking out at me desperately but I forced her limbs down, pinning her beneath me though she we were the same size.

Bright blue eyes looked up at me, wide with panic, and I recognised the 16 year old girl from District 5. I scrolled through my mind for her name; Cora.

"Hello there Cora," I purred, giving her a smile and pulling my blade before her eyes. I saw them widen with fear as she looked at the gleaming metal. I wondered what it looked like from the victim's perspective. To me the blade was beautiful, steel glinting, inviting, begging to be put to use. But I was guessing she saw none of those things as I flicked it in the air above her. She gave another vain wriggle underneath me. It was thrilling to feel her struggle.

"Please," she begged, and my eyes flew to her face as she gasped out a plea for her life. It was exquisite and I rocked back on my heels slightly, waiting for her to continue. "Please don't kill me. You don't have to. I'm not a threat to you and I'll just go...please."

The logic made me laugh. I leant down again and pressed the blade to the side of her neck, watching as she turned her head instinctively away from it. Her pulse was visibly twitching in her throat. "It's not about that," I said, my eyes fixed on her pulse. "Don't think that because I'm not with the Career pack that I'm all about survival." I licked my lips. "I want to kill you just as much as they do."

She let out a low whimper and I smiled again. I could see the fun in playing with your food. But I needed to get the kill over with. I'd seen tributes get too caught up in the game of their prey and it usually cost them dearly. While I was fixated on Cora I was vulnerable to attack. Tenderly I stroked the tip of the blade down her throat, watching as bright crimson bubbled and began to flow. Cora let out a gasp but that was all. I stayed there, watching her intently until the blood ceased to flow down her throat and her eyes turned glassy. I was a little disappointed that she hadn't cried out. A scream would have been nice.

The sound of the canon roused me from my trance of watching the blood and immediately I climbed off her. She looked quite small like that, lying dead on the ground. But I didn't feel any pity for her. This was what it was all about. We were here to kill and there was no point wasting energy on feeling guilty about it. Not when she was just like the rest of them.

Before the Hovercraft could arrive I wiped my blade clean on her jacket and slid it back into my belt. My breath was coming in short, stabbing bursts and by heart was pounding in my chest. The thrill of the kill was racing through my body and I looked around, knowing I wanted to find more.

* * *

Unfortunately Cora was the only kill I was going to get on the second day. I spent the remainder of daylight prowling the woods, trying to hunt out some scurries of movement, but I saw nothing. I did manage to find myself a source of water that wasn't frozen though. Tucked between a chasm of rocks a small bubbling waterfall slipping between icicles. The water was freezing to my touch but I filled my canister and drank as much as I could there. It filled my stomach and meant that I wouldn't have to dip into the ration pack I had managed to pick up from the Cornucopia.

By dusk I had made my way to the edge of the woods and sat just within the tree line, watching the plains before me. From this angle I had a clear view of the Cornucopia in the distance, glinting in the fake sunset. The mountains loomed behind it, peachy pink light shining off the white caps. Slightly to my left a set of low hills merged into the mountains, and I knew that if I ever had to go towards that half of the Arena that would have to be my point of entry. I had seen ice and rock climbing tools and equipment at the Cornucopia but I hadn't grabbed any. I wouldn't even know where to start.

There must have been some tributes in the mountain or the foothills though because at one point I heard a high pitched cry from the Careers and they all took off towards the hills. I looked up at the growing dusk and cursed the sky. The days were so short in this Arena. As I watched, white flakes began to drift down over the plains. I had never seen snow fall before and I watched it for a while, mesmerised by its gentle swaying descent. It covered the Cornucopia in a thin layer of white after only a few minutes and no doubt added another few inches of snow to plough through on the plains.

Looking around the plains quickly, and seeing they were deserted, I crept a little way from the trees and reached out my hand before me. Despite where I was I was fascinated by the snow. The flakes landed on my outstretched hand and after one moment of sitting in perfection they began to melt instantly against the relative warmth of my skin. The perfectly shapes spires disappeared into fading grey. I pulled my hand back and lapped at the melted sleet. The ice crystals were sharp against my tongue, tingling.

As night time began to close in I retreated a little way back into trees, repeating my process of last night and climbing one of them.

Tomorrow I would have to change my plans. If I wasn't going to be finding enough tributes lurking in the woods I might have to venture out onto the plains. As I lay awake I tried to devise a plan for catching the Careers. I couldn't take them all on, so I either had to wait until the broke apart or try and trap one on their own somehow. My mind was buzzing with strategies when the Capitol anthem began to plan.

I looked up into the sky and waited. The deaths of day two; the girl and boy from District 3. I suspected it was their screams that I had heard the previous night. Then Cora's image appeared in the sky and I felt a rush of delight. My own kill. All mine. Then that was it. A bit of a disappointing day. Thirteen dead now. We were over half way and it was only the second night. As I settled back against my tree I could only hope that the rest would happen as quickly too. I was so sick of being cold.

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year my beautiful readers! Can I just say how incredibly grateful I am to each and every one of you who have read my story all this way and who are still reading and most of all letting me know your thoughts in reviews. It means so, so much to me. **

** Saphira: Thank you for the advice on the knife throwing! I shall keep it in mind for future writing and check my chapters before I upload them. If it were legal in my country to practice knife throwing I would definitely want to give it a go. Originally I was going to include the background story one-shots as epilogues but I decided to put in Domitius' early because people were curious about his story then. I'll continue it like that through the other parts of the Ena Trilogy just because I like consistency. **

**I hope everyone in their respective time zones has a fun and safe new year celebration and keep tuned for more updates soon!**

**-Lu**


	22. Chapter 22

The following morning I watched the Career pack take off towards the hills on the far side of the Arena from me. I lurked in the shadows on the edge of the forest and fixed my eyes on their retreating backs; Allure, Luxor, Manius, Lupa, and Adrian. It would be the perfect Career pack if I had been part of it. When it came time for them to turn on each other it was going to be spectacular. I only hoped that I would be there when it happened so I could join in on the slaughter.

Once their shouts had faded and they were no longer in sight I turned my attention back to the Cornucopia. There was complete stillness in the plain. Faintly I could make out the shape of some of the podiums peeking through the snow. The Cornucopia lay unguarded. I had decided to see what I could come across. With another set of knives in my belt I'd feel better, and food wouldn't go amiss, though I wasn't expecting it. I had been hungry and tired and aching before, I knew could handle it better than the other Careers probably. It was the constant cold that was wearing me down the most. My body never seemed to cease shivering.

Deciding that the lack of movement in the plain meant it was a good time to move I darted quickly out into the snow. One of my blades slid into my hand at the ready and I kept flicking my head around, looking both for threats and potential prey.

It had been too long since I had killed Cora and my body was itching to feel the rush of adrenalin again. I wanted to feel a pounding heartbeat beneath my fingers again.

As I had suspected the snow was thicker now and it was hard to make my way through it. By the time I reached the sparkling side of the Cornucopia my leg muscles were aching with the effort.

I looked around again but everything was pristine and still and silent. Stealthily I moved into the shadow of the silver horn and began to look over the boxes. There were some weapons left but nothing that grabbed my attention much. There didn't appear to be any food, the other Careers had probably cleared that all out and had it stashed somewhere. All that remained were a variety of objects I didn't even recognise. Some of them were clearly designed for the snowy condition but I didn't know how to use any of them. I picked up a set of ropes and spikes and wondered if I could turn it into a weapon.

A sound behind me cause me to drop the ropes suddenly and spin around, the metal spike clanging against the boxes beneath them. I raised my knife ready to throw and saw the small girl from District 7 coming towards me. She was storming through the snow with far too much purpose for my liking. In one hand she swung a small axe and in the other a knife. My eyes rested on the knife longingly. How dare she threaten to use my own weapon against me?

I sent the knife I held in my hand spinning towards her. It was a perfect shot and should have got her in the centre of the chest if she hadn't turned at the last minute. Instead it sunk itself into her backpack and I saw with dismay that although it momentarily sent her reeling back she was still coming towards me.

Before I could grab another knife from my belt she had thrown herself at me, slamming us both into the ground. My back hit the corner of one of the boxes painfully but I hardly noticed, already rolling us over in an attempt to gain the upper hand. She was about the same size as me and she had the added benefit of the axe, which swung down towards my head. I rolled to the side just in time and pushed myself up towards her as the blade of the axe sunk deep into the snow. I shoved her hard in the chest and sent her reeling backwards. Her fingers released the handle of the axe and it stuck in the ground where my head had been moments before. I sprung to my feet and snarled at her.

"Think you can attack me District 7?" I spat, prowling around her as she watched me with equally wary eyes.

"Almost got you 2," she replied with a wicked grin. I slipped another knife from my belt and sent it towards her. This time she wasn't quick enough and it caught her on the arm, sinking into the flesh. She let out a howl and stumbled backwards, enough time for me to throw myself at her.

Although her arm was bleeding freely and she tried to wrench the blade from it, she still managed to bring her own knife against me as I attacked her. I felt a sharp sting against my ribs but didn't pay it any heed as I threw myself on top of her, crushing her ribs with my knees. She snarled at me and writhed ferociously. She almost threw me off and I knew that unlike with Cora I wouldn't have the delight of a slow kill. I grabbed the blade from my wrists and sunk it smoothly into her chest.

She let out a gasp of surprise, her eyes going wide and her back arching up. I slid the blade out again in one fluid movement and almost instantly she was completely covered in blood. She began coughing and choking as blood filled her mouth and I watched with hitched breathing as she died. I wanted to drive the blade into her chest again and again but there was no need. She let out one last gurgling gasp and then lay still beneath me. Letting out a shaky breath I slid off of her still form. Looking down at my front I realised that I too was covered in blood. The stinging I'd noticed before reached me again and I spread my hands over my lower ribcage. She'd managed to slice at me with her blade. Luckily the thick fur of the jacket had caught most of the slice but there was a long, shallow cut following the line of one of my ribs and it was bleeding. I didn't have time to worry about it though because there was a series of shouts from behind me. I spun, knife already in hand, and was dismayed to see the Career pack returning.

I grabbed my pack and slung it over my shoulder with a quick sigh. I was going to have to run again, there were 4 of them and only one of me. I took off towards the trees but stopped almost immediately. Ahead I could make out the figure of Lupa, slinking out of the trees. Somehow she must have gone around and decided to cut me off while the others came up behind me. They were closing in and I could make out their calls now.

"We're coming to kill you, little one!" Luxor shouted at me.

"Not today," I muttered under my breath and looked towards the mountains. It was the only path left open too me now and as much as I didn't want to the other option was taking on 5 Careers who were all bigger than me and carrying swords.

I took off towards the hills, hearing their shouts of outrage behind me. I had a good head start and I was lighter on my feet than all of them. I was into the low hills in no time and began making my way up their slopes. It was hard work and my whole body was burning but when I looked over my shoulder I saw that they were still following so I kept pushing myself.

I made it to the shelter of a steep rock face and looked for them again in the lieu of the mountains. I couldn't see them but their shouts echoing around me told me they were still looking for me. The sound reverberated around me and made it difficult to know which direction it was truly coming from. I looked at the mountains rising before me and decided on a steep path like point that led up between two of the steep hills.

I had to practically climb some of it, not something I was used to on icy rocks, and by the time I reached a small plateau my hands here covered in cuts.

I turned around and for the first time looked back to see how far I had come. I could no longer hear or see the others but far below me the Cornucopia glinted in the fading sunlight. The lake stretched away into the distance in one direction and the forest in another. It was almost beautiful from up there, sparkling away. It looked quite innocent. Shivering I turned back to the mountains. It was definitely colder up here and as I looked up I saw that dark grey clouds were gathering above me. It looked like the Gamemakers were planning on bringing mother nature into play. I spun in a circle, wondering what to do. I didn't like being up here but to go back down meant to risk running into a numerous and fully armed Career pack. I still couldn't even be sure they weren't following me.

A cold wind picked up and stung straight through my fur lined clothes. It blew the loose tendrils of hair around my face and in frustration I brushed them back. The wind had a foreboding feel to it. I didn't know what to do. My every instinct was telling me to leave these mountains immediately. A storm was brewing and I was already feeling numb. I didn't have any equipment to survive up here. But the logical part of my brain told me I couldn't go back down to the plains. And the ever present stubborn part of me was determined that I could do it, survive up here.

I pulled my jacket closer around me and suddenly remembered the cut that Resin had given me. I backed up into a wall of rock and against all instinct unzipped my jacket. It seemed to have slowed bleeding and I couldn't feel any pain, though that could have been because I was quickly growing numb all over. The wind continued to whip around me and as I zipped my jacket up again I looked up to see that snow was beginning to fall. I needed to find a rock ledge or somewhere where I could find shelter. As I moved out from the shadow of the rock face I felt the full force of the wind and realised it could well be strong enough to blow me over the edge of a cliff. I dug my feet into the snow and kept going, putting my head down and walking head first into the wind.

Next time I looked up I could no longer see anything around me. I was on a patch of reasonably flat ground I could tell that much but a blizzard of snow and ice whipped around me, shielding everything behind a curtain of white. My teeth were chattering so hard that I could barely think straight and despite the fur of my suit it felt as if I wasn't wearing anything as the wind bit straight through the fabric.

I took a step and paused, worried that without vision I was going to walk over a cliff.

A smack of wind from another direction suddenly sent me tumbling into the snow before me. It crunched beneath my fingers and as I tried to draw breath I realised by chest was constricting painfully. For the first time actual panic set in. I could die up here. No matter how well I could slice someone with a knife that wasn't going to save me in this blizzard.

The thought was enough to send me scrambling to my feet. Another buffet of wind had me back on my knees before I'd managed to stumble three steps. It pressed me into the ground and I closed my eyes. People said when you died of cold that it was peaceful, like going to sleep. But this was painful as all hell. Somehow, even though my entire body felt numb, sharp spikes of ice like pain were jabbing into me with each new smack of wind. My chest ached as I tried to draw in frozen air.

Without thinking I curled up into a ball. I couldn't move, I couldn't get up. I squeezed by eyes shut and tried not to think about what they'd be saying in the Training Centre at home. I'd so badly wanted to prove them all wrong but in the end it looked like I was going to die shamefully alone and at the mercy of the weather.

I would have cried out if I had even been able to breathe but instead I just let the thoughts blur into one and gave up on thinking.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for those last reviews Saphira, Snitchstar and Melliemoo.**

**I hope any of my readers also living in Australia are staying safe during these dangerous days. I must say I've been wishing to be in Enobaria's Arena during this heatwave of ours.**

**There's a bit of a surprise for you in the next chapter, anyone want to hazard a guess at what it may be? If not you'll just have to stay tuned to find out then won't you? :)**

**-Lu**


	23. Chapter 23

When I woke up the first thing I became aware of was that I wasn't dead. Everything wouldn't be aching and hurting this much if I were dead. The second thing I became aware of was that I was looking at a dark wall of rock and I was the warmest I had been since entering the Arena, which was still pretty damn cold.

Rolling over I suppressed a groan as my muscles protested the movement. The dark shape of a figure out of the corner of my eyes had me sitting up in a flash and pressing my back against the wall of rock, despite the aching of my body. Fear and adrenalin obscured the pains as my hand flew to my waist, trying to find my bladebelt. My fingers scrabbled frantically, finding nothing, and panic flooded through me.

I pressed myself up against the wall and looked properly at the figure. Raziel, the boy from District 12, looked back at me with mild interest.

"I took your knives," he said almost conversationally, pointing at my fingers which were clutched at the fabric of my jacket in the absence of a knife. My heart was pounding in my chest as I looked at him. He'd made me almost defenceless against him and the knowledge filled me with utter terror, the same sickening powerlessness that always washed through me when I was without my knives. He was bigger than me, just like almost everyone, and as my eyes flicked around I realised we were in some sort of cave, an enclosed space that wouldn't help me when I tried to defend myself. The mouth of the cave was a few feet from me and outside I could see a blur of white as the blizzard still raged. The last thing I remembered was curling up in the snow and the deep shame at my pathetic death.

"You know, it's generally not a good idea to take a cat nap in the middle of a blizzard." Raziel's voice drew my eyes back to him and I looked at him, wide eyed and panicked. I hated the confusion that my brain was frantically trying to sort out.

"Where are my knives?" I managed to get out eventually, my voice rasping in my throat. He shrugged and looked down at a packet in his hand, picking out something and popping it in his mouth.

"Like I said, I took them. Didn't want you stabbing me as soon as you woke up."

I stared at him. "I can kill you without them." I tried to sound confidant in my claim but although I knew I could take him on, I had a feeling that if I tried to attack him he could win. He was strong, as strong as Manius, and although he hadn't shown any particular skills in training it wasn't to say he didn't have any. He popped another piece of food in his mouth, seemingly unphased by my threat, and looked at me.

"Yeah, you probably could but I figure I have food and you're probably hungry so maybe you won't kill me just yet." I couldn't tell whether he was making fun of me or not. His eyes were deadly serious as he held out the packet towards me but his words were so strange. He seemed perfectly at ease with the knowledge that I wanted to kill him.

I ignored his offering and instead wildly flicked my eyes around the space. I was on one side of the narrow space, he was on the other. I was wrapped in my jacket and something that looked like a fur and my pack was sitting next to me. He was surrounded by a few supplies; his pack, an open water canister, the silver cloth of a parachute, and the packet he was eating from. No sign of my knives but no sign of his weapon either. I looked out at the mouth of the cave again and knew I couldn't go back out there. It would be certain death.

_Survival before battle_. Domitius' voice echoed in my head and I looked back at Raziel. If he attacked me I was just going to have to deal with it and hope I came off better. Because while there was a blizzard outside I had no choice but to stay here with the boy from District 12, for better or for worse. A small voice in my head was telling me that if he had wanted me dead he could have killed me a dozen times whilst I slept. But the idea that he chose not to kill me seemed so illogical that I dismissed it.

I shifted sideways slightly and felt with surprise something tighten around my chest. I lifted my hand in alarm and felt through my jacket a tight band of cloth. My eyes flew to Raziel and he seemed to notice my expression.

"Oh, you were bleeding, and your sponsors sent some bandages, so I fixed it." It felt like ice was slipping through my veins. He'd touched me. Hurriedly I unzipped my jacket a little way and inspected the bandages. With relief I saw that they were wrapped around my ribcage over the clothing I wore underneath the jacket. With shaking fingers I zipped it back up again, all the way to my throat, and smoothed out the blood soaked fabric. One thing about the white outfits was that they showed up blood amazingly. The strategic part of my brain was saying that that could compromise my camouflage at some point, but most of my mind was too tired to be thinking distant strategy now. Raziel was watching me with wary and curious eyes, looking worried at my severe reaction to his statement. He even looked a little apologetic. I didn't like him looking at me intently like that so I cleared my throat and tried to think of something to say.

"Have you been up here the whole time?" I found myself asking, shrugging out of the fur or whatever that was around my shoulders. It was the reason I had woken up not completely frozen. Possibly for the first time since I had been in the Arena I wasn't shivering, despite the fear that was making me feel weak.

He shrugged again and tossed the packet into the space between us. I looked at it briefly, finally realising that I hadn't properly eaten in a long time. I didn't even know how long I had been asleep for. "I've been up here more or less since the start. The Careers don't seem to like the mountains much. You've been asleep for about two days by the way," he commented, as if reading my mind. I started with surprise.

"The blizzard has been going for that long?"

"I guess there wasn't enough murder going on. The Gamemakers obviously decided to shake things up a bit."

I looked around me again. "That they did," I murmured and saw from the corner of my eye that he gave a small smile.

"Why the hell didn't you leave me to freeze to death?" I exclaimed, oddly angry. As much as I was grateful to still be alive it was hurting my head to try and figure him out. He had no reason to save me and even more reason to let me die. Every tribute down was one step closer to home.

"I'm not going home," he said simply, looking up and meeting my eyes with his startling amber ones. I'd never seen anyone with eyes that colour before. They reminded me of a cat. "I've always known I was never going to win. But I figure you had a good chance." He smiled. "And I like that you're not part of the Career pack."

"But I _am_ a Career," I pointed out. "I kill people. I just killed that girl from District 7. I put my knife through her chest." I shuddered with pleasure at the memory despite myself. Raziel didn't react to my bloodthirstiness, but was still looking at me curiously.

"Resin," he murmured softly. "Her name was Resin. She had four younger sisters."

I blinked at him expressionlessly, wondering why he even knew that and why he was telling me. It made no difference what her name was or how many siblings she had. She was dead.

Eventually Raziel sighed and stretched out his arms above his head. "Look I don't know all right? This is all madness and I can't make head or tails of it. But I saw you out there and it's just not something I could do, walking away and leaving you. So I didn't."

His complete frankness was almost as puzzling as what he was saying. Even the way he had so calmly spoken about his own death was unnerving.

I opened my mouth to ask him another question but he beat me to it. "Did you kill Senra?" he asked. "The little girl from my District?"

I flew my mind over the past few days. Entering the Arena already felt like it had been ages ago. Then with a jolt I remembered who he was talking about. I remembered seeing the little girl's body in Lupa's arms and how she had driven her sword through her body till it stopped moving. She was the only kill that had somehow made me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because she'd looked so young, just like Clove. It shouldn't matter though. I ducked my head at the memory and Raziel took it for confirmation. He cleared his throat and looked away from me. "Please tell me you at least made it painless?" he asked in a quiet voice. "She was only twelve."

I looked up at him and shook my head, realising his mistake. "No. I didn't kill her. It was Lupa...the girl from Four? I- I saw her kill her." I thought about her death again and thought it was probably far from painless. Lupa had been playing with her prey and suddenly I could still hear the little girl's cries and whimpers. But I looked at Raziel and saw that his face was ashen. "It was quick. Painless, I think," I lied. He nodded.

He gazed at the snow for a few more moments and it gave me a chance to study him. His golden hair was sticking to his head, dampened no doubt by the falling snow. It still managed to stick up in all directions though. His cheekbones and eyes were angular, sharp, hawklike, but not unattractive. He had a sort of wild look about him, despite the way his eyes were kind, even when he had thought I'd slain his district partner. When he looked back at me with his peculiar coloured eyes I glanced away embarrassed to have been caught looking at him.

"Do you know how many were killed while I was...asleep?" I asked.

Raziel looked towards the rock ceiling as if trying to think. "Mays and Farro." He saw my blank look and gave a grimace. "The District 11 girl and District 9 boy, to you."

He nudged the bag of food at me again and this time I reached out and took it. Little squares of some dried fruit it looked like, but whatever it was I was desperately hungry. It wasn't going to make much different but it was something, so I began to eat, watching him warily at I did. He seemed amused that I had finally given in and accepted the food. "Don't think this means I trust you," I commented, swallowing.

He sighed, almost with frustration, and looped his arms around one knee, pulling it up to his chest. "Look, I get it. Sooner or later you're going to have to kill me. I get it, honestly. But right now there's a blizzard out there and neither of us can go anywhere so you may as well put down your damn hackles for a while." The sharpness of his voice surprised me into stopping eating, a piece of fruit suspended halfway to my mouth. Slowly I lowered it and cleared my throat.

"Fine," I said sulkily. "I won't kill you until the blizzard is over. But you better tell me where my knives are at some point." He actually grinned at our bizarre bargain.

"Deal," he nodded.

* * *

**A/N: I loved reading your hypothesis! Surprised you all then because no one guessed right. Thanks for the fantastic reviewing efforts guys, it means a lot.**


	24. Chapter 24

We fell into silence for the next few hours and I took to watching the snow fall through the mouth of the cave. I kept all my senses firmly on every movement Raziel made but he made no move to attack me at all. He seemed much more at ease than I did. I wondered how he could possibly be so cavalier, especially as he seemed to have accepted his death. At one point I turned to him, wanting to ask him about it, but found that I couldn't summon the courage.

For the most part he just fiddled with whatever he found in his pack. For probably an entire hour he simply plaited and unplaited several pieces of string. I couldn't believe that he could be entertained by something so simple for so long. After only half an hour or so I was desperate to be moving again. With feeling and warmth a desperate restlessness had returned to my limbs and I found myself constantly shifting position. My hands continuously twitched to my waist, feeling for a blade, simply to have the comfort of knowing they were there.

Eventually I spun to face him, scowling. "Are you going to tell me what you did with my knives or not?" I demanded.

He played with the canister in his hands, rolling it between his palms, and looked at me. "Will you kill me with them, or with something else?"

Put off balance by the bluntness of his question I opened by mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. I had no problem with killing any of them, but when he looked me in the eye and asked me how I was going to do it, for some reason I had to look away. My stomach twisted painfully, and I told myself it was from hunger or anxiety. I looked out at the snow again and noticed that for the first time I could make out the faint outline of rocks through the white. Raziel spoke again, seeming to notice the same thing as I did. "When the snow stops I'll take you to them." I nodded silently. I had not given him an answer and yet he was still apparently willing to take me to the weapons that could kill him. It was completely illogical to me which made me extremely nervous about the prospect. Every instinct told me that he had an ulterior motive. I was going to have to pay attention to every movement he made and not until I had my blades in my hand and his dead body at my feet would I finally believe that he was not a threat to me.

"Shall we?" he asked. The sound of his movement sent me spinning around to face him, my back pressed to the rock wall again. But he merely held out my pack to me, his own already slung over his back. He looked more serious that he had before, his eyes set in a slight frown. I reached out and snatched my bag from his grasp. He looked slightly disappointed though I couldn't imagine why. I was desperately eager to be rid of him now, if for no other reason than trying to figure out his impossible motivations was making my head ache more than it already was. He rose to his feet, crouching in the confined space and moved out towards the mouth of the cave. I thought it stupid of him to turn his back to me.

As I stepped out after him I looked dubiously around. The snow had almost completely stopped falling and everything was caked in a thick layer of white. The world looked foreign and terrifying. I followed Raziel through the path that he made in the snow. I was glad to not have to go first, it would have been too exhausting to try and make the path in the snow that was now almost a foot thick.

Wading our way through the snow it took us a long time to make our way down the mountain side. Eventually we rounded a rocky ledge and the low hills stretched beneath us. In the distance the Cornucopia flashed in the sunlight that was now emerging between snow white clouds.

I stepped forwards, looking down at the view trying to spot any movement from the othesr. There should be eight of us left now, things would be coming to a head soon. When I looked across at Raziel he seemed fixed on something far to his left, down a steep, narrow rocky path.

"What is it?" I asked suspiciously, taking a step away from him. But when he turned to me his face was as placid as ever.

"Nothing," he said a little too quickly. He nodded up a little cluster of rocks. "They're up there, if you want to go get them."

I followed his eyes. We stood on a small patch of flat ground. The rocks looked easy enough to climb but something about his behaviour was making me even more suspicious. I eyed him warily. "No, you go first."

He sighed impatiently and glanced down the hill again. "Look, I promise you, it's not a trick."

"I have no reason to trust you," I shot out angrily.

He ran a hand through his hair and glared at me. "You have no reason to trust anyone, I know. Just please go and get your damn weapons." He snapped at me again, as when he told me to 'lower my hackles' and something about his voice made me take a step back. I backed up towards the rocks. Keeping my eyes firmly on him I slowly began to pull myself up the rock ledges, feeling blindly for hand and footholds. He held my gaze as I climbed and as I reached the top nodded encouragingly. I dropped over the top of the rocky ledge and landed on the snow, looking around me. There was nothing by snow and ice here.

He stood below, looking up at me. I paused, turning around.

He looked over his shoulder as if he had heard something and then turned back to me. The strange smile on his face made my body freeze, watching him warily. I felt each of my muscles tense, preparing myself automatically for a fight. I flicked my head around, inspecting the white landscape around me, but it was deserted. Raziel's attention still seemed to be torn between me and something behind him. Then he took a step towards me and I jumped backwards.

"Here," he reached into his jacket and before I could reach pulled something out. My eyes instantly recognised the familiar lines of a bladebelt, slung across one shoulder under his jacket. With fingers moving like lightning he unclipped it and tossed it up to me. "I had them the entire time," he said, grinning again. I caught it in one hand, hearing the familiar clink of the blades against each other, feeling comfort rush through my system, even though my attention as still fixed fearfully on Raziel's strange behaviour. Next thing I knew he'd thrown another object up towards me and it landed in the snow next to me. "Stay hidden," he said simply. I crouched down, reaching for the object, completely confused. My fingers groped in the snow and clutched around a handle. Pulling it free my eyes widened as they fell upon the smooth, curved blade of a small ice pick. He'd not only had my bladebelt the entire time but he'd had his own weapon hidden on him too. I went to call out to him but my voice died in my throat when I heard a shout from nearby, a female shout. I flattened myself to the ground, clutching both weapons in my hands, and let my eyes fly around the plateau beneath me. Half a second later three figures appeared leaping over the rocks on the other side of the small space; Luxor, Allure, and Lupa. They set their eyes greedily on Raziel, slow smiles spreading across their faces.

I tightened my grip on my weapons and calculated how many of them I could be sure of taking them down. If there had been only two of them I'd have considered it, but even if I could be sure that from this awkward angle I'd cleanly get two of them, there was no way I could get the third before they got to me. I ducked my head back slightly, remembering Raziel's advice about staying hidden. How had he heard them coming?

I couldn't think about all that now, my attention was too fixed on the Careers in front of me. They didn't seem to notice my presence though, and as they prowled closer to him Raziel didn't give it away.

"How have you been then?" he greeted them friendlily, and I shook my head in confusion. What was his game? They seemed to be equally confused by his strange behaviour but although Luxor paused Lupa and Allure continued to prowl towards him through the snow. In a quick movement Allure had lifted something to her lips and blown. Raziel let out a sharp cry and raised a hand to his throat and I realised a second later that whatever it was had blown some sort of dart at him. He pulled it from his skin and looked at it, almost with detached interest.

"We're going to have fun with you, Twelve," Allure said smiling. She slipped the pipe into her belt and pulled forward the short sword she had tried to kill me with in the Bloodbath. Its tip was still stained in blood from her last kill as she lifted it towards Raziel. He didn't move, didn't even try to defend himself as she brought it down, slicing into his arm. Blood sprayed across the snow and Raziel let out another cry. The sound was so pained that for some reason it made me flinch.

I was leaning out over the edge of the rock I was hiding behind and suddenly realised that I was on display if any of them should look up. I pulled my head back but none of them were focused in my direction. They were too busy with Raziel. Lupa let herself drop back slightly, seeming to watch with veiled enjoyment as Luxor now moved forward, sending Raziel to the ground with one blow. Allure darted forwards again and pounced on him, pinning him beneath her and lifting a small blade in one hand. My eyes lingered on it hungrily. I wanted it.

She was hissing something at Raziel as she dragged the blade across his chest. I couldn't see his face from here but his body twitched involuntarily underneath her. Luxor had one of his wrists pinned beneath his foot, and Raziel's fingers scrabbled in the snow as Luxor looked down at his District partner's work with a smile. He muttered something to her and she threw him a flirtatious look over her shoulder. How I despised them. Without even realising my fingers brought one of the blades from the belt forwards and I pressed it against the flat of my palm, wishing I could send it sailing towards her stupid, ditzy smile. I gritted my teeth as Raziel cried out again. It was simultaneously raising my blood in a way that only a kill could, and making something in my chest twist painfully. I wanted them to stop, but I didn't know whether it was because I wanted to be the one doing the killing or for some other reason.

My eyes flew to Lupa. She had been too quiet, too disinterested. Her gaze was flicking around the rocks in a bored manner and as I watched she looked over her shoulder back towards the Cornucopia. "Hurry up you two," she called in a cold voice. "I want to keep hunting."

Luxor threw her a dark look. I could tell they disliked each other as much as I liked all of them. Only then did I suddenly wonder where Manius and Adrian were. They hadn't been among the dead but they hadn't been with them. Had they broken from them or were they off hunting somewhere else?

'Why so eager, Fish?" he asked nastily. He looked back down at Raziel's form, which had stopped twitching now. "Don't you enjoy the Game?"

Lupa rolled her eyes and growled at him. "He's as good as dead thanks to your little girlfriend there, so just finish it off and let's go."

She was right. As Allure pulled back I saw that Raziel was as good as dead. Blood soaked across his jacket, barely leaving a speck of white, and seeped into the snow on either side of him. His eyes were closed but as I watched closely I could see his chest still rose and fell rapidly. I started as Luxor walked into my view, and the shine of his sword caught my eye as he raised it over Raziel. In one fluid movement he plunged it downwards into his chest. Raziel's body convulsed one last time as the steel was driven into his body, and then it lay still.

Allure and Luxor stepped backwards, smiling delightedly, they brushed up against each other and shared a muttered comment with bowed heads. Lupa sniffed contemptuously and turned on her heel, storming from my sight in the opposite direction. Without looking back at the blood stained body behind them Luxor and Allure dashed after her, Allure's laughter echoing against the rocks as she responded loudly to something Luxor said.

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**A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay between updates. Life has not been the kindest to me lately but I will try harder to update quicker. **

** Anna: I wish I could add dramatic music to my story haha.**

** Anla'shok: You did guess half right. And there are a lot of interesting things about Raziel, his name the least of them. He's a mystery character, for both Enobaria and the readers. It's good to have someone who throws you off occasionally. (I'm still getting around to your story too, I'm sorry, I haven't forgotten though I promise)**

** Saphira: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my writing, that means a lot. And I'm pleased you were surprised. You might just get a few more before the story is out :) **

** C: It says something when the best we can hope for in hunger games stories is a peaceful death for a character, doesn't it? Portraying the many sides to Enobaria is my goal. I consider this story a success if even one person realises that even the seemingly blackest characters have fears, vulnerabilities, secrets, pain etc. **

** Minna26 and melliemoo: Glad you enjoyed the chapter. :)**


	25. Chapter 25

After the sound of Allure's childish laughter had faded, and I could no longer see their figures among the rocks and snow, I jumped down from my ledge, landing neatly in the snow next to the bloody body that had once been Raziel. I glanced across at him, a tangle of thoughts in my head.

The sight of the blood, seeping into the snow, made me hungry to be hunting and killing again. The restlessness that I'd felt in the cave was still twitching through my limbs and the scent of the blood was only increasing that.

I looked down at the bladebelt in my hand that moments ago Raziel had thrown to me, even though he could have used the weapons to defend himself against the Career pack. It hurt my brain trying to figure out why he would have done that. Every way I thought about it I couldn't find the ulterior motives behind what he did. But he had no reason to help me.

The sound of a Hovercraft somewhere above me broke me from my thoughts and I looked up, startled. Its silver shape was visible through the clouds. I needed to go.

I threw Raziel's body one last look, not even sure what I was looking for, and took off down the path that the Careers had taken. I had spent too much time in these mountains. I was craving the silence and familiar terrain of the forests. I had a feeling that if I could make it there then I could take on the Career pack. I doubted any of them were good at climbing, and I was forming a strategy of using my knives from above them.

Trying to descend the mountains was harder than climbing, which I hadn't thought possible. Almost every footfall shifted under my weight, sending small avalanches of shale and snow tumbling away from me, sometimes over dangerously high edges.

The sight of the forest before me distracted me for a moment and, almost at the foothills, I misplaced a step, feeling the lurch that meant the ground had given away beneath me. I tumbled a short distance, landing with a thump on a deep patch of snow that completely covered me. I lay still for a moment, trying to pull breath back into my body, and feeling the cold creeping back in. My entire body was already shivering again.

I only allowed myself a second of recovery time. Before my body really wanted me to I was struggling out of the snow, climbing back onto my feet and looking around me. One advantage of my tumble was that it seemed I'd taken the short route down to the bottom of the hill. The forest stretched before me, only a short distance away across the plain.

I looked around but there was no sign of movement and took off towards the dark line of trees. I hadn't gone a dozen feet when I heard a shout and knew that it was directed at me. Turning around my eyes immediately fell on a group running towards me from behind the Cornucopia. The side of the hills had blocked them from my view, but now they could see me as bold as anything dashing across the open plain. Manius was in the front of the group, followed by the others. They'd obviously joined back up and I could tell from their excited calls that they were looking forward to the next kill. I gritted my teeth, _not today_, and turned, moving as fast as I could through the snow.

This time though my size wasn't to my advantage. I couldn't move through the snow fast enough and with their longer legs they were quickly gaining on me.

Manius was the first to reach me. I turned at the last minute, still trying to put distance between myself and them, and met the downward strike of his sword with my pack, blocking a swing that could have taken off my head. But as I collected the blow I felt that it wasn't as hard as I knew it could have been. Without time to wonder about it further I was trying to spin away from him, made difficult by the snow. Allue and Luxor were coming up behind him now, Allure fanning out to come at me from the side.

Manius paused, his chest heaving and each breath escaping in a soft cloud of white. His eyes were gleaming as they connected with mine.

"Time to break the Alliance," he mouthed at me, and without giving me a chance to really process his words he suddenly turned on the spot and struck out at Luxor with his sword. Caught by surprise Luxor wasn't quite quick enough to deflect the blow and caught it on his arm, a deep well of blood appearing immediately. He cried out in fury and dove at Manius, lifting a mace above his head. I didn't have time to watch them further because from my left Allure had decided she had had enough. She darted towards me and I only just managed to dodge to the side as she tried to collect me. In her hand she held the knife that I had seen her use to torment Raziel and my hands itched to touch it, to grasp it and use it against her.

We circled each other warily, trying to block out the shouts and thuds of the other's fighting. From the cries though I knew that Luxor and Manius were still locked in combat, though I had no idea who was winning. Further away I could hear Lupa and Adrian, and I realised that Lupa must have decided it was time to end the Alliance as well. She had turned on her District partner.

"'I've been looking forward to killing you," Allure said, her eyes gleaming as she prowled around me. The blade glinted in her hand. I watched her movements closely, letting myself be filled with all the hatred for her of the last week.

"Not as much as I've looked forward to killing you," I promised, my words coming from my mouth in puffs of white as my breath frosted around me.

She snarled at me, not looking so pretty any more as her face contorted in anger. There was dried blood matting her perfect golden hair. I smiled at the thought and she lunged at me, the knife swinging. I spun to the side and lashed out with my own knife, sending a stripe of blood across the side of her torso. She cried out and rounded on me again, oblivious to the blood pouring down her side.

"You really should fix your hair," I said nastily, feeling the pure delight of a fight flooding my body. She spat at me and slashed out with the blade. Anger and probably exhaustion were making her careless and her aim didn't even come near me. It allowed me to dart in and jab at her body, sending my knife into her stomach. She reeled backwards, pulling me with her, and I saw the gleam of her blade out of the corner of my eye. Instinctively I raised the weapon in my other hand and brought to down towards her throat, always my primary location for a kill. It wasn't til the weapon slid with a sickening thud into the soft skin of her throat did I remember what I had been holding; Raziel's ice pick. I backed up, letting my knife slide out of her body and releasing the handle of the pick, my eyes fixed on her beautiful face. Her own icy blue eyes which I had thought so unusual had gone wide with shock, and slowly she fell to her knees, one hand raising slightly towards her throat before falling limply away again. I stared as her skin turned ashen before my eyes. She coughed, a trickle of blood escaping her lips and staining them crimson like some twisted version of Capitol makeup. The blade of the pick was bedded through the centre of her throat and as she gasped and spluttered through the blood it moved sickeningly in her flesh. It seemed like an age that she knelt on the ground before me, and I watched the colour drain from her face with the blood that leached down her front. Then, just as slowly, she fell backwards, landing on the ground with a soft thud, collapsing delicately as only a tribute from District 1 could. I couldn't pick the exact moment she died until there was a canon shot echoing around me. I watched the blood trickle down the side of her neck into the snow and flinched as another canon boomed. I turned to face the others just in time to see Manius pull his sword smoothly from Luxor's body. The body arched up towards him as the sword withdrew, almost as if it didn't want to be parted from the metal, but then flopped back lifelessly. He lay still.

I was breathing hard, my ribs aching with each breath where I had smacked them in my fall. I placed a hand to my side and watched Manius warily. He'd broken the Alliance just as I thought he was going to kill me, but that wasn't to say he wasn't going to try and kill me now. It had served him well to have me help him kill off the other Careers. As I watched him turn towards me another canon boomed and we both looked across to Lupa, standing over the body of her District partner with a manic smile on her face. Looking back at Manius I saw it instantly; we both knew Lupa was the threat and for now we would put aside killing each other.

"Lead her to the hills," Manius called to me and took off running in the direction of the mountains. I had no desire to return there, but Lupa was already darting towards me in the snow, her still bloodied weapon held out. I threw her one glance and took off after Manius, racing as fast as I could through the snow. I didn't know what his plan was but he'd spent the entire time with her, I had to hope he knew what he was doing. I lost sight of him as he crested the hill in front of me and as I reached the rocky top I paused, completely out of breath from the mad dash through the snow. There was a thud behind me and I spun around, weapon raised and already coming down. Manius blocked my smaller knife with his sword.

"Stop!" he called to me breathlessly. "Let's deal with her first." I pulled back my weapon reluctantly and followed his eyes to where Lupa was making her way up the hill towards us. Even from a distance there was something so predatory and terrifying about her. I hadn't wanted to admit it to myself but right from the start I had been nervous about the inevitable battle with her. I was only glad now that I had Manius on my side when facing her. It made the odds a little more favourable. I followed him up one of the rocky outcrops, wondering what he was doing. As if reading my mind he paused on a ledge and offered me a hand up, swinging me onto the small space next to him.

"She doesn't like heights," he said simply. "The higher we go the more advantage we'll have." I looked down at Lupa's dark form and found it hard to believe that she was afraid of anything, let alone heights. But as she paused and looked up towards us I saw it in her face. She was forcing herself to keep going, I could see it in the grimace that passed across her expression.

The knowledge gave me bitter pleasure and I gave a short, cold laugh. Manius grinned too and pulled himself up another ledge.

All three of us where a lot slower than we would have been at the start. Days of minimum food, freezing temperatures, complete exhaustion and various injuries were taking their toll, and by the time Manius halted on a patch of snowy ground I was almost completely done. My arms trembling I pulled myself up next to him and gave myself a few seconds to catch my breath.

A few seconds was all I had because I heard Manius shout and looked across to see Lupa pulling herself up to our level. She'd made fast progress, faster than we had, and had caught up quick despite her evident fear of where we were.

Manius lunged at her instantly, using the initial exhaustion of her climb, but she seemed prepared, lifting her sword to meet him. They spun around each other viciously a few times, gleaming metal flying out. The air was filled with the sound of limb thudding against limb and metal against metal.

I circled around them, a knife already waiting patiently in each hand, and tried to see a clear opening, but they were moving too fast and I had just as much chance of losing the knife or sending it into Manius as I did of cleanly hitting Lupa. I decided to wait, tensed and ready, and see how their little battle would go. I was itching to throw myself into it, but my small knives would be almost useless against their heavy swords at such a close range.

They seemed tireless, spinning and slicing at each other in an endless blur. My frustration and restless were growing overwhelming and without realising it I was dancing around them, desperate to find an opening to send one of my knives. It seemed the Gamemakers were growing bored with the fight too because just as my eyes fixed on Lupa's back and I raised my arm we were all thrown down as the ground beneath us buckled. We weren't on a lake now but it was the same, the rocks shuddering beneath me. There was a deep rumbling noise all around and every time I tried to get up the shaking earth threw me down again. Small rocks were flying loose of the mountains above us and rained down around us all. I lifted my arms in an attempt to cover my head against them and I felt small bursts of pain as they smacked against my body, some of them easily the size of my fist.

There was a deafening crashing sound and I risked a glance up. At first I didn't understand what I was seeing but then a shout from the other two made me snap into action. A wall of snow, ice and rock was racing towards us. I threw myself down the rocks, following the others as they scrambled desperately away, all thoughts of fighting forgotten as we tried to outrun the avalanche bearing down upon us.

Debris rained down upon my back as I ran and fell down the hills. Ahead I could see Lupa and Manius doing the same, dodging desperately around boulders and getting tripped by the deep snow, sometimes falling faster than they were running.

There was a loud crack and a sharp cry ahead of me and I looked up to see Manius go skidding to the ground, rolling a few feet. As I raced towards him I could see him desperately trying to get up, but I couldn't understand why he wasn't. Then I saw the blood and the angle of his leg. I skidded to a stop next to him, sending a small rush of snow under my feet, and threw him a quick glance. My stomach threatened to turn at the sight. Bone was sticking out of his leg where it had snapped clean. His usually dark face was a grey colour and he was twisting in agony. He wasn't going to outrun anything on that leg. I looked behind me again, seeing the wall of white cascading down the mountain towards us, and looked back at him. His eyes locked with mine for the briefest of seconds.

"I'm sorry," I said simply, and turned away from his pain. My legs started pumping again, carrying me away from him but I didn't hear him call out. He was a Career, he knew what the Games cost. He would have known the second he went down that he was as good as dead. The logical explanation was that if I stayed and even tried to help him, we would both end up dead. But that didn't stop a small bubble of guilt as I sprinted and tumbled away from him, fixing on Lupa's distant figure.

I didn't even know the point where the wall of white would have hit him. The sound of the avalanche was all around me, rumbling off the other mountains. It was so loud that I wanted instinctively to duck and cover my ears, just burrow down and wait for it to stop. But my legs kept carrying me down the hills, slipping on patches of icy rock. I was never going to be fast enough to outrun the crashing wall of white though. I saw the line of trees up ahead just as I felt a great force hit me from behind, slamming me forwards into the ground. Then everything was icy cold fingers jabbing into me. The world tipped upside down as I was tumbled over and over, slamming against things that felt as solid as stone and snow chocking any breath I tried to draw. Everything was white and then, just as suddenly, everything was black.

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**A/N: I know I don't need to apologise for the delay, but I will anyway, because I like to keep my updates frequent. I hope you're right Saphira and the wait is worth it. **

**Anla'shok I really love your take on Enobaria, especially your comments about her lack of maturity to explain feelings she's suddenly getting. I love it when my readers make me understand or see things about my stories I hadn't necessarily seen before. **

**Thank you everyone for the reviews. I sincerely hope I can get the next update up quicker.**


	26. Chapter 26

I woke up to a mouthful of snow and every muscle and joint of my body screaming at me in agony. Trying to move my arms and legs was difficult, but after a few seconds I realised this wasn't because of the pain, this was because they were trapped by the weight of the snow. I coughed out the ice in my mouth, managing to swallow and inhale some of it, and tried to figure out where I was. I couldn't possibly be completely buried in snow or I wouldn't be able to breathe. To be honest, I was a little surprised to find myself alive, if that's what this agony could be called.

I tried moving my head, ignoring the way it made everything spin and dive sickeningly, and found that I could see the sky. I wasn't buried, just dumped in a pile of snow. Panem only knew how I'd survived the avalanche but as I determinedly tried to wriggle my way free I wasn't going to question it. Alive was alive.

I burst through into open air with a gasp, never so glad to feel the painful stab of ice cold air in my lungs before. I crawled my way free and collapsed onto the surface of the snow. How could everything be simultaneously aching and numb? But I couldn't lie there forever. I forced myself onto my knees and looked around hazily, desperately searching for something in the sea of white. I couldn't see the Cornucopia anywhere, but I could see by the top of the cliff where it should have been. Somehow it had been completely buried. Looking behind me I saw that the forest had suffered too. The bottom half of the trees were buried, the first few rows looking like they had been pushed over by a giant. I must have been on the edge of the avalanche because I was looking across an enormous plain of fresh glittering snow that hid the Arena I had become familiar with.

My hair was sopping wet, tendrils clinging to my face and neck annoyingly and making me even colder. I rested on my knees for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. My pack was gone. I must have dropped it when I was running or when I was hit. Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by a small noise behind me. It was as gentle as the sound of a light footfall crushing snow but it made me spin around, leaping to my feet and meeting Lupa's dark eyes. She'd been trying to sneak up on me, and lost in my thoughts and numbness I'd almost let her. She looked about as bad as I felt; soaking wet too and with blood pouring down one side of her face, sticking her hair to her neck. Her eyes though were as clear and dark as ever, and fixed coldly on me as she lunged forwards. Even as I darted aside my hands were flying to my waist, and panicking as they felt nothing. My bladebelt was gone. To my horror I realised I was completely without a weapon, and I scurried back in the snow as Lupa bore down upon me. Her eyes gleamed brilliantly in her pale face and as she towered over me she looked completely crazy.

At first I thought she too was weaponless, but then she lifted an object and before I could realise what it was something was flying towards me and there was a sharp pain in my shoulder. I clutched at it, my fingers scrabbling around a small shape buried into my flesh. Ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder I pulled it out at the same time as I realised that the object Lupa was dropping to the ground was the pipe I had seen Allure use on Raziel. I dropped the dart to the ground and straightened to face Lupa.

"It's going to take more than that," I hissed, narrowing my eyes on her. She was bigger than me but she already looked a little unsteady on her feet. I wondered if she'd hit her head when we were hit by the snow. If it was to come down to hand to hand combat now I might just be able to overpower her.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a dark shape in the snow and I risked throwing it a quick glance to confirm what I thought it was. With relief my eyes fell on a small rock about the size of an apple. I lunged towards it but Lupa must have followed my gaze because she leapt forwards too, crashing into me as I reached for it and sending me sprawling to the ground. I rolled onto my back trying to scramble back to my feet but was crushed a moment later as she landed on top of me, the rock in her hand. Although she swayed unsteadily above me her weight crushed the breath from my body and I could feel my ribs complaining the pressure. She grinned wildly at me as she brought the rock smashing down towards me and just in time I managed to wriggle to the side. Instead it smashed into the snow where my skull had been a second ago. Knowing that her unsuccessful attack would have thrown her weight forwards I kicked out at her, sending my knee into her ribs and as she yelped out in pain and was thrown to the side I scrambled out from underneath her. Deathly cold fingers wrapped around my ankle and with a jolt I felt myself being yanked backwards across the snow. An involuntary cry escaped me as I was dragged helplessly towards her, unable to twist around, my fingers scrabbling uselessly at the snow. My travel halted and there was a crushing pain in my leg, just below the knee. Biting down on my lip against the pain that was searing through my leg I twisted around and saw blood soaking through the leg of my pants. My eyes moved upwards to see Lupa standing again, the rock in her hand once more, and her eyes even wilder than before. There was fresh blood spattered across the front of her jacket and visible on the side of the rock from where she had just dashed it against me leg.

"You're not going anywhere Two," she hissed though her words had lost their clipped diction I'd come to associate with District 4. I ignored her comment and rolled onto my knees, trying to be prepared as possible for her next attack. Pain shot through my leg, making me gasp, but I tried to push it aside and focus on her figure. I blinked as her body before me wavered and shook my head fiercely. She grinned again. "Those little darts of One's...I hear the poison works fast."

Poison. A hand flew to my shoulder where the dart had pierced my skin and suddenly the spinning feeling in my head made sense. I lifted my head to look at her. "I'll just have to kill you quicker then, won't I?" I managed to say with more strength than I felt. She smiled again like she respected the challenge in my words. I had been right all along. Lupa was my fiercest opponent. She was just as skilled as Luxor, or Allure, or Manius, but there was a psychotic glint to her eye that had always sent a wave of dread through me. There was something terribly wrong with her.

"You can't possibly think you ever stood a chance," she sneered nastily, her eyes unfocused as she gazed down at me. "You're nothing."

Oblivious now to the pain in my leg, and ignoring the way the ground tilted beneath me I threw myself forwards at her, tackling her to the ground. We rolled over, the rock in her hand coming dangerously close to my head. Rolling on top of her I pressed my good knee into her ribs with all my strength and was rewarded with the satisfying feel as they snapped beneath the pressure. We struggled desperately for a few seconds. I wasn't even sure either of us was capable of using strategy and skills now. It was more striking out blindly and a frantic wrestle as we felt the other gaining the upper hand. Then, suddenly, her fingers released from the rock for a fraction of a second and I pounced, snatching it in my hand. Without hesitation I lifted it just high enough to bring it hard down against her skull. For a half second before my arm fell I met her eyes, dark and accepting, and then there was a sickening thud and crack of rock against bone. I didn't even notice the fingers that had been gripped so tight around my arms that they were drawing blood until they fell to the snow beside her. Her fingers curled in and out once as if they were reaching for something and then her body beneath me stopped fighting. I rolled off her, gasping from breath as I made contact with the snowy ground again.

The rock slipped from my fingers and lay on the bloody snow between us. My chest heaving I stared at the sky, watching unnatural colours dart across the clouds. A canon shot rippled and I closed my eyes. It was over.

I didn't know what kind of poison had been in the dart but I could feel my mind slipping away from me. When I opened my eyes again everything seemed detached and disjointed. I looked around and struggled to my knees. Nothing happened. Losing the energy, I fell back to sit on the snow. This wasn't right. Something was meant to be happening I was sure of it.

Desperately I tried to run through my memories for how long it normally took at the end of the Games. No, this definitely wasn't right. Which meant it wasn't over. There must be someone else.

Pressing my hands to my face to try and think clearly through the jumble in my mind I ran over the deaths. Sixteen Raziel had told me. If you added him, to that list then seventeen. Allure, Luxor, Adrian- twenty. Manius- twenty-one. Lupa's body next to me made twenty-two. There _was_ someone else.

I couldn't conjure who it could be but I pulled myself to my feet, looking around me. My leg shook beneath me but it held. I tried not to look at the damage that Lupa had done with the rock. The blood pouring down the fabric was enough to tell me that I had to find and kill the last tribute very soon if I was going to make it out of here.

On sheer instinct I started making my back to the place where the Cornucopia had once stood. There was no sign of its silver surface now and as I stumbled my way forwards the mountains behind began to shatter and break apart. I shook my head, trying to clear my vision, but it didn't help.

It took me a few moments of staring at a little trail of red on the fresh snow to realise that it was real. Despite my exhaustion my heart leap uncontrollably at the sight of blood and a few seconds later the information seeped through to my brain. Fresh snow. Blood.

I lifted my head and saw a figure on the snow about forty feet ahead of me.

As I got closer I saw the dark splay of hair in the snow and vaguely recognised the girl from District 8. The name Calico slipped into my mind but I had no idea why I knew that.

As she turned around, her eyes going wide with fear at the sight of me, I saw that the blood trail seemed to have come from a cut on her. She tried to scramble to her feet from where she had been crouched in the snow but I was too fast, and pounced on her, sending us both sprawling to the ground. She wriggled weakly underneath me and I felt fingers scrape the side of my face but she was smaller than me and even with my injuries and the poison seeping its way into my brain I was still stronger. Or maybe it was because of. I could feel reality flashing in and out of my mind and I was no longer sure whether each movement I made was real or just in my head.

She let out a high pitched scream that ripped through my aching head. I wanted her to stop. My mind was a blurry mess of snapping colours and strange little whisperings. I screamed as I felt my father's hand wrap around the back of my neck and wildly shook him off. Calico looked at me with petrified eyes, clearly thinking I was mad. The blood was trickling down the side of her neck into the snow. I had to end this but my mind was painfully blank without my knives. I stared at her for a moment, and she stared back, frozen in terror.

_...whatever you have, your arms, your legs, even your teeth if you have to_. Domitius' words floated through my brain, sounding scary and distorted and I fixed my eyes on the pulsing skin of Calico's throat. It was already bleeding, and somehow my brain twisted it around thinking that I'd already done it. I could see the tearing gap in her throat where my teeth had ripped into her skin. The shuddering earth and the twisting girl beneath me, the mountain shattering into diamonds overhead and the sky slowly turning a shade of bright azure all faded away as I focused on the pale skin of her throat. I didn't have weapons. I needed to end this. All other options blocked themselves from my brain.

She seemed to realise what I was doing as I leant down. She started screaming again, the noise shattering into my skull. The warm, metallic taste of blood filled my mouth and the screaming suddenly stopped. I coughed, choking on the blood filling my mouth, and fell off her, coughing bright crimson into the snow. There was a choking coughing sound coming from Calico too and I turned, the hallucination I had seen moments ago suddenly real in front of me. Blood was pouring down both sides of her throat into the snow and there was a ragged gash in the skin. The sight made my stomach heave and I coughed again into the snow, spitting out more blood. The warm sticky substance was slipping down my throat, making me gag. It stuck there no matter how much I coughed or swallowed and the coppery taste filled my mouth.

I almost didn't hear the sound of her canon firing over my own desperate attempts to breathe passed the disgusting substance filling my mouth. I looked up at the sound, wondering whether I had imagined it, and then across at the body in the snow. Her eyes were wide and staring up at the sky, the utter terror of her last few moments firmly imprinted there. She had been so close to beating me and as I collapsed sideways into the snow next to her I knew that several more minutes and I wouldn't have been able to fight.

My mind twisted dizzily as something appeared in the sky above me and I once again dragged myself up into a kneeling position. It took every ounce of strength I had but as I set my eyes on the Hovercraft lowering towards me the realisation suddenly struck me.

I had won. I was going home. I was the Victor of the 67th Hunger Games.

* * *

**A/N: Well. **

**Don't go thinking this is the end, my friends. I think it's a good time to tell you though that after the last few chapters of this story (there's 2 more), there is a second part...and a third! I will begin uploading the first chapter of part 2 as soon as I finish uploading the last chapter of this part, so look out for it. Enobaria's got a long way to go yet and I hope you can all join us for it.**

**I also hope everyone liked the ending of the 67th Games. I know people probably had their guesses at how it was going to end etc, and this might have been a surprise, but it was all very deliberate. I don't like things being predictable if I can help it. **

**Thank you everyone who left such lovely reviews on the last chapter! I'm so glad there were a few new readers there, and you're comments mean the world to me. Honestly. **

**Re Anla'shok: Ena is definitely a wolf. A prowling, black wolf who fixes you with ice cold eyes. Also, on the theme of guilt. I think you picked it up with questioning why she feels guilty at all. One of my aims is to express how human emotions aren't logical, guilt among them. For a person such as Enobaria who lives her life by cold, hard logic, those inexplicable emotions are probably more scary than facing any opponent. Even in her conscious mind doesn't process guilt her base, human, subconscious still processes these emotions, and you were right in an earlier review, she doesn't have the emotional maturity to comprehend them. But that doesn't mean they're not there. **

**Thanks again for the reads and reviews everyone and stay tuned for the next few chapters! **

**-Lu**


	27. Chapter 27

In the Hovercraft they managed to get one needle slid into my arm before I snapped out of my daze and realised what they were doing. I struck out at anyone that dared come near me and told them I'd end their lives on the spot if they tried to inject me with anything else. I'd heard how they liked to 'fix' people after their Games; send them to sleep for days to 'recover' while they erased their scars and made them Capitol beautiful. No one was going to touch me.

As my head began to clear I realised that the one thing they'd managed to inject me with must have been antidote, and the logical part of my brain kicked back in, telling me that that at least was a good thing. After my initial attack they seemed a little warier of me, and hung back a safe distance. I wondered how I looked in their eyes. Once we'd landed and I was following a figure down a corridor lined with mirrors I saw what they saw.

My hair was still clinging in a wet heap to my face and neck and my eyes seemed to be larger and darker than normal in my pale face. Most startling though was the blood that soaked the once perfect white of my Arena outfit. The injury on my leg I had known, but I hadn't even realised how covered in Calico's and probably Lupa's blood I had become. It soaked the front of my jacket and spattered across my arms and my neck. But it was the blood that was smudged down my face and neck that probably scared them the most. It looked like I had ripped into someone's throat with my bare teeth. I had.

Silently I followed the armed Peacekeeper into a room that was all silver and white. I stopped. I never wanted to lay my eyes on this much white ever again. The Peacekeeper who had been behind me gave me a forceful nudge forwards and a jumped from his touch, growling at him. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the other one raise his weapon slightly. Did they really think me a threat? The thought filled me with pride a little and I allowed myself to walk further into the room. People dressed in yet more white suddenly poured from two doors and they gathered around me, gripping my limbs and talking to me at once. I tried to pull myself from them but dozens of hands pushed and tugged and nudged me onto a low bed. I saw the glint of a needle again and kicked out at the person carrying it. There was a cry from them all and I shifted myself back on the bed till I had my back firmly against the wall and was watching them all warily. Didn't they get the no-touching memo from the others?

One of them tried walking towards me, saying things in a soothing voice, but I growled at her and kicked out again in her direction.

"I don't want any of your medicine," I spat, my eyes flicking around them. "I don't need any of it, just let me go." Just as I had suspected the same woman murmured something about resting and healing but I shook my head firmly. "NO!" I shouted. I wanted to get out of this room that was too white and was filled with people that I didn't trust. I was tired, so bone achingly tired, and most of all I wanted to stand in the scalding water of a hot shower and forget that coldness and numbness ever existed.

"Why are they always hysterical?" one of them muttered from beside me. I turned myself towards him, shaking off another hand on my arm and gave him my most ferocious glare.

"I'm not hysterical," I spat. "I'm going to kill you." I watched with satisfaction as he visibly paled beneath his ridiculous makeup and took a hurried step back.

"I wouldn't doubt her," said a gruff voice from the other side of the room. I spun around and set my eyes in surprise on Domitius, who was standing in the doorway. He looked tired, and tense, but his expression was mildly entertained. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another one of the Capitol people approach me, a needle glinting in her hand. No doubt she hoped to sedate me while I was distracted. Without looking at her I struck out, listening with pleasure as they all squealed and scurried to their colleague's aid.

"Give me that," Domitius demanded, holding his hand out towards whatever the nearest one held. Trembling, the man with bright orange hair placed a bundle of something in Domitius' hand and then shrunk back. "Let's get out of this madness, Rabbit," Domitius said, turning back to me and giving me a hand down from the bed. Gratefully I latched onto it, sliding from the bed and landing on the freezing tiled floor. My injured leg threatened to give way but I ignored it. I just wanted to get out of this clinically cold room where everything was white and silver; the colours of snow and steel.

I threw one last vicious look around the room as we left. They all seemed equally terrified of Domitius as they were of me and watched us go silently, their faces drawn and worried.

I limped my way through the tunnel like corridors of the building after Domitius, with no idea of where we were. At first I looked around me wearily, looking for people and threats, but after a while I was too tired and I just let myself follow his footsteps ahead of me. He walked slowly, letting me keep pace.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, suddenly realising I hadn't questioned his sudden appearance at the Capitol. I'd been too glad to see him amongst the madness of the Capitol medics and their psychotic idea of healing.

He kept his eyes ahead as we walked down a dark grey tunnel. "Previous Victors are invited to Victory parties. Normally I avoid them but I thought this year I might make an appearance."

I gave a small smile which, turning, he spotted. "Don't look so pleased with yourself, Reyes," he said with gentle sternness. "I've had tributes come out of the Arena in much better shape than you. Look at the state of you."

I took his chastisement in the light manner I suspected he meant it. His voice didn't sound angry, despite his words. "Most of this blood isn't mine," I pointed out.

"I know," he said, looking ahead again, and I struggled to tell whether he was pleased about that or not.

We went up several floors in a smooth elevator and when the doors opened I recognised the District 2 Suite I had stayed in with Manius before the Games. At the thought of my district partner I looked to Domitius again. "Sorry about Manius," I said simply, the unfamiliar apology awkward in my mouth. I didn't know whether I was apologising for the general loss of his tribute or for as good as leaving him to die, a cowardly action, even in our world. He shrugged and held the door open for me.

"I got one tribute back. That's more than some years." As I walked into the dark and silent main room I wondered what it must be like for him, to train us and at best only be able to hope for victory from one. I doubted he had sentimental feelings for any of us- except maybe Tacita a small voice said in my head- but still, it must get disheartening to see all his hard work gone to waste in only a few short weeks.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, looking around. I dreaded seeing my mentor, unsure of how she would react to my return. I was too exhausted to deal with Ramona right now so I was glad to be met with stillness and silence from the apartment.

"It's customary for the Victor to spend at least one night in Healing. No one will expect you back up here for a while, so you can have some peace and quiet. And we can have a look at that injury on your leg." I glanced down at my leg, surprised to see the blood. I had almost forgotten about it. The pain had receded to a dull throb, pushed to the back of my mind behind panic at the Capitol medics and tiredness. But now that I looked at it I could see where the fabric of my suit was shredded, showing the raw and bloodied flesh underneath. Lupa had really done a good job with that rock.

"They'd make it disappear, wouldn't they?" I asked Domitius, lowering myself with shaking arms into a seat. My body seemed to have decided to stop cooperating after my ill-treatment of it over the last few days. I motioned down at my leg. He nodded as he dropped the box he'd carried into another chair.

"They don't like scars in the Capitol."

I looked down at it again. "I like them. They all mean something."

He didn't respond as he moved about trying to pull the fabric away from the wound. I grimaced as a fresh sharp pain stabbed through me but didn't make a noise. He pulled objects from the box and began to dab away at the blood. I didn't even know what half the things he pulled out were for but he seemed to be confidant in what he was doing so I left him to it.

I watched him in silence for a few minutes, absorbing the peaceful quiet of the room and enjoying the feeling of not freezing air caressing my skin. When he pulled out a glinting piece of metal I flinched away.

He held it up to show me. "It's just a needle, Rabbit. To sew together the cut and stop it bleeding." I didn't like the idea of sewing together my skin, I'd never bothered with that before, but if I was going to ever trust anyone with a sharp implement near me I think it would be Domitius. So I let him bring it closer to me and watched him warily as slipped it into my skin. I winced and looked away. I didn't want to watch that, and looking at it only made it hurt more.

To distract myself from what he was doing I tried to think of something to say. Suddenly something popped into my brain, something that Domitius should know.

"My mother's dead," I said, as blunt in telling him as Ramona had been in telling me.

He didn't look up from his work but said, "I know."

There was another stretch of silence before I spoke again. "I'm sorry." That was the second time I had apologised to him for someone's death that wasn't my fault.

He seemed to pick up on this because his head lifted slightly, though he kept his eyes on his work. 'Why are you apologising?"

The words were spilling from me without thought. "Because... I think- I think you loved her." It was true, I'd known it for years now, from the way my father and mother had reacted to his name.

He didn't answer me for a moment. I looked down at him and saw he was focusing on tying a knot in the thread. There was a gentle tug and then the thread snapped. "Done," he said, leaning back. I looked at it. Most of the blood was cleaned away and it didn't actually look nearly as bad as I'd thought it was. He'd done quite a neat job. He sighed and looked at me. "I did love your mother once. Before she married your father. Before she went into the Arena and won the Hunger Games."

I stared at him solemnly. He didn't have to tell me that but for some reason I appreciated that he had. For the first time I thought about my mother as someone other than the cold and indifferent ghost that had shared my house for 17 years. I thought about her as a young and determined girl, like me wanting nothing more than to win the Hunger Games. "The Games change people," I said suddenly, thinking of my mother, of Tass. "They... break people."

He studied me intently. "They don't seem to have changed you much, little Rabbit."

I gave a shrug. There wasn't pity in my voice when I spoke, only matter-of-factness. "Perhaps I was already broken."


	28. Chapter 28

I could only hide for so long. After only three hours of fitful sleep the suite was once again filled with shrill voices and people who insisted on torturing me worse than anything Allure or Luxor could have done. Death at the end of one of their swords would have been a million times less painful than what my prep team and mentors put me through for the final interview and Victor's party.

I refused to stop fighting them. No matter how exhausted and aching I was, I would never let them drag me into a dress and pin my hair up and put makeup on my face without fighting them the whole way; growling, biting, snarling, hissing, swearing, kicking, clawing. Whatever it took.

When I'd lost the battle I had retreated to the silence and solitude of my room for a few minutes. I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself with dismay. I didn't know the person there. Despite her thinness from the Arena she had curves that were accented by the slender fall of the black dress. She had freshly washed and conditioned coils of shiny ebony hair and perfectly curled tendrils framing her face. She had smoky-rimmed eyes that stared back at her from a pale mask. She had a choker of lace and beads around her throat that were the perfect colour of fresh blood.

I touched my fingertips to it, and felt the cold, smooth glass beads and delicate threads of the lace. It was no accident that they had chosen this colour. It was to remind everyone watching of the dramatic violence of my win. Cerulean and the prep team had tried to recreate the blood that smeared down my face and neck when I had walked out of that Arena. Despite everything, it was a touch I oddly appreciated.

I pulled my eyes from the crimson. As I looked in the mirror at myself I tried to imagine what it would feel like if I weren't wrong. How the last few days would feel if I didn't enjoy killing. What weight would the deaths put on my shoulders? I looked myself in the eye with these thoughts in my head and suddenly recognised the desolate look there. I knew that look and I knew what it could make you do. There was a noise as someone appeared in the doorway of my room and I knew it was him. I looked to Domitius in the reflection, the question already spilling out of me.

"Tass killed herself, didn't she?"

I saw his reflection in the mirror freeze slightly and he slowly lifted his head to me. His expression was grave. Yet again I found myself positive that he had loved Tass more than he did just any of his tributes. It was easy to see why. She deserved it. She was one of the good ones. He nodded his head slowly, meeting my eyes in the glass. "She wasn't as strong as you, Rabbit."

I turned back to the mirror and looked at myself once more. I looked like me again; no guilt veiled my eyes and pressed my shoulders down. "No. I think she was stronger."

* * *

The interview was about as pleasant the second time as it had been the first. Except now there weren't 23 other teenagers to take the force of the Capitol's attention off me for a second. It felt like someone was pressing a blanket down over my mouth. Only Domitius' cool eyes on me and the thought of Clove watching at home managed to get me through. I could picture her clearly, sitting in the large room of the junior training centre, surrounded by the other children but never really part of them.

For the first time I wondered how the past weeks had been for her. She'd been so excited for me to go to the Hunger Games. I wondered if she'd still felt that when she'd watched me kill and almost be killed. I wondered if she still wanted to go herself. I found myself desperately hoping that the answer was no. This charade wasn't something I wanted for her. She could train but I didn't want these people to make her one of their playthings.

It felt so powerless.

After the interview I was almost instantly thrown into the middle of the Victory Ball, the highlight of which was supposed to be the crowning. I didn't care about any of that. This was Capitol nonsense. The knowledge that my District had watched me win, and the knowledge that they'd be proud of me, that was my reward, my crown. This silly gold circlet was something to please the Capitol.

Whilst the President placed it on my head and muttered words of congratulations to me I fixed my eyes on Ramona in the crowd. She glared back at me, her eyes blazing with anger, and in an odd way it gave me comfort. She still hated me, crown or no crown. And despite how much I despised the way the Capitol had tainted her, there was a fire and stone in her gaze and her body that reminded me so strongly of home. It reminded me of who I was.

Afterwards I was expected to be put on display. I didn't smile but it didn't matter. That apparently was part of the image that they'd grown to love about me and every time I glared at one of the Capitol people placed before me they would shrink back and shudder with delight. I was their adrenalin rush.

I felt a cool hand on the small of my back and the only thing stopping me from twisting away was the overpowering smell of roses that I had noticed as President Snow placed the crown on my head. A moment later I felt him fall into place next to me, smiling vaguely out at the crowd.

"You gave us quite a show my dear," he murmured in my ear. I didn't reply but looked out over the people as well. I couldn't be impolite to this man and I certainly couldn't injure him as I wanted to, but that didn't mean that I had to smile and flutter my eyelashes. He turned slightly to face me and I was forced to meet his eyes. They were steel grey and icy cold. They flickered down to my mouth for a moment and I saw him smile. "We should talk to the beauticians about a permanent reminder of your courage, don't you think?"

I gave him a tense smile that didn't reach my eyes, even though I had no idea what he was talking about. He chuckled like he knew that I was clueless and glanced away at the crowd again. There was no one else around us now. They had all dispersed into the throng as he arrived, leaving him to talk to me in privacy. I almost wished my prep team would come back. The President's hand was still placed lightly on my back in a gesture far too intimate and I had to grit my teeth to keep myself in place.

He gazed out over the crowd for a few silent moments. Something in his gaze was almost adoring. He was like a grandfather, watching as his grandchildren and great grandchildren played around him. He was a man watching his future and knowing he had prepared it will for the world.

After a while he pulled his eyes from them and fixed his gaze back on me with a look that was far from fatherly. His eyes were appraising. "You're very popular here, Miss Reyes," he said quietly. His voice was as smooth as silk and sent a shiver down my spine. "There are many of my people who..._adore_ you a great deal." I stared back at him. I didn't understand what he was getting at but I wasn't going to question him. If he wanted me to understand he could explain it clearly, none of these riddles. He seemed amused by my defiance because a small smile twisted his lips. He reached out and I felt his long, cold fingers on the skin of my collarbone as he brushed a tendril of hair away from my neck and the scarlet choker there. He admired it for a few moments. If he had been anyone else he would have lost their fingers but instead I kept my body rigidly still and stared stonily at the tie around his neck. "I think..." he said softly again, leaning forwards so his words slipped over my skin in a breath, "that when you get an invitation from me to attend a special party, I think that you should accept. I think your sister would want you to accept it...what is her name? Clove?" I looked up and met his eyes at the mention of her name and although I didn't understand what he wanted from me the threat in his words was crystal clear. His face in front of me wavered slightly as my heartbeat picked up in panic again. Not now. I'd come so far to make sure she was safe. He was watching me expectantly and so I forced my muscles to work, nodding my head stiffly. He let out a low exhale and I felt his breath against the bare skin of my shoulders. "Excellent," he breathed, and then he was gone.

I turned stiffly towards the crowd, watching him glide through his people. He paused here to touch someone on the shoulder, hesitated there to offer a kind word. They adored him and he adored them. None of them had any idea what he had just said to me but my entire body was as cold as ice and when I lifted one of my hands to brush at my skin, certain I could still feel his fingers on me, my hand was trembling. Through the crowd I caught Domitius' eye and knew that he had been watching us. I turned away, not wanting him to see in my face the fear and weakness that Snow's words had inspired in me. I wondered how much he knew anyway. He had been a Victor, a mentor, a trainer. He must know that Victory didn't mean freedom or safety.

Yet he'd never told me.

Without looking back I walked out of my own Victory Ball. I could feel eyes on my back as I strode from the room in my silky black dress, I just didn't know anymore which eyes were friends and which were foes. All I wanted was to go home and see Clove and know that all of this wasn't going to be for nothing.

I had thought that winning would be the end. I had thought it would mean that I could leave behind my childhood of fear and weakness and pain. But as I walked through the deserted hallways of the Capitol building I knew that it was far from over. This was only the beginning.

* * *

**A/N: And that, my dears, is the end!**

**I just want to say a massive, ginormous, gigantious thank-you to everyone and anyone who has reviewed. There are not words for how appreciative I am.**

**There will be part two beginning shortly, as a new story, so make sure to keep an eye out. I'd love to see you all there.**

**-Lu**


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